


I'm Still Here

by LadyYateXel



Series: Song Without A Name [2]
Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: I don't know how to tag this, Multi, Sequel, Shenanigans, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 148,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyYateXel/pseuds/LadyYateXel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Song Without a Name - A view from the inside and a view from the outside. It is amazing how different we look with the lens at another angle.</p><p>(Archived a million other places, but uploaded here by request is this relic from 2008.   Should be noted that this is a sequel to the original Song Without A Name, and not the reprise.  Things will seem off if you read this following the rewritten SWAN.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meanwhile

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Still Here is the sequel to Song Without A Name, and it's also being uploaded here under request of people who wanted it in downloadable format. It was written from 2008 through about 2010, and then the last chapter was finally uploaded in May of 2012. This story is just as much nostalgia and importance to me as SWAN. 
> 
> The first chapter presented here I called 'Meanwhile'. It's not the official first chapter of ISH, but I don't like the idea of presenting it in an archive like this where it'll be taken out of context, and it's better at the beginning of this than at the end of SWAN.

 

She never considered herself an angry woman.

She questioned things, she knew a stupid thing when she saw it and was keen to point it out in the proper company, but she never ascribed ‘angry’ to herself as a basic personality description.

Or she hadn’t before. Now she wasn’t sure.

There hadn’t been a ‘fade to black’ for her, a convention she’d seen done so often in movies she felt it just had to have been the way things would happen. It had just fizzled out, someone had trouble getting the plug out of the wall, but gave it that one last tug that not only cut the power put threw the puller across the room, and everything was gone.

She’d been surprised when it all came back. More than once, though she’d lost count by now of how many times it had been. Lost count. Lost fucking count of how many times she’d lived.

The world grew crazier with every blink. She knew, because not only had she seen crazy on television, but she’d indirectly died at the hands of crazy, and sometime later, stood on the sidelines while crazy grew up.

Tess saw Johnny for the first time in a town neighboring her own very small one. He had been sitting on a high stone wall, alone, listening to headphones. People walked by him, people looked through him, people didn’t see him there. She’d wanted to say something, but had had no idea what. The line between ‘Hey, remember me?’ and ‘I think I understand what you were doing, even if it was madness,’ was still blurry. Congratulate him, or punch him in the face?

When she’d made the decision to just say something, he had vanished, and she’d assumed it to be better that way. She’d never see him again and just go about her business like usual. Maybe even die and stay dead this time.  They’d both go through invisible lives and not alter the course of anything or anyone again. Maybe it would be relaxing.

Saw him again in a street, holding a baseball bat, and laughing with a girl. Some kid was lying on the pavement in front of them, but seemed to be just as amused, if not dazed.

And again, breaking into a run-down building with the girl.

Another time, following the guy who’d been on the pavement the time before into a deteriorating trailer.

Once more, dragging an overwhelmed-looking guy in glasses behind him through the school parking lot.

It wasn’t that she had been following him, or even looking for him on purpose. She’d have been happy to never see him again, but the more she saw him the more she became bitter that she _could_ see him, and then the more she _did_. He never saw her, and yet she saw him everywhere, despite her only occasional visits to his little town. The group she’d begun to see him accumulate at a rapid pace frustrated and confused her. Didn’t they know what he was?

Didn’t they know she was there, too?

Once Johnny had assimilated the guy with the glasses into his little harem, Tess had watched the group dynamics change. Johnny still firmly at the center of it, but Guy-With-Glasses came in closer than the others. They still ignored her, still didn’t see her there now that they all had been seen themselves.

Perhaps this was some kind of karmic thing, she’d thought. She’d been cursed to be invisible in this life for pretending to be fringe and oppressed, or at least associating with people like that, in another. She’d hoped then, and still did to some extent, that her last time spent trying to escape Johnny’s house with her life had redeemed her somewhat. Sure, she’d rationalized a homicidal mad-man’s actions, and had even felt some regret at not having the moment her disgusting companion died captured on film, but it was human to have thoughts like that, and surely that situation had been a special case.

Whatever the reason, she felt sure what had been dealt to her wasn’t justified.

She’d seen Johnny on the roof, and seen him visit Guy-With-Glasses-And-Goatee and been amused when said guy started looking longingly at Johnny. Johnny couldn’t see that either. She’d laughed at them, and then wondered if she would regret it or if she could somehow take it back.

She’d seen Johnny’s other companions meeting without him, and then suddenly all together in the school. She thought nothing of it until she began seeing them everywhere on top of everywhere.

On television, in radio broadcasts, in newspapers and on flyers. She’d stood there, alone, holding image after image of a formerly invisible skinny teenager while remaining one herself. The thoughts she’d then entertained weren’t of congratulating or punching any longer. They were of jealousy and rage at injustice. The almost-man in the images she’d crumbled in her fist was a twisted and sick creature who’d somehow made mocking the very things he’d done to make himself a monster into entertainment.

When she saw that this sick bastard had charmed Glasses Guy, who, through the magic of media, she’d learned was called Edgar, she decided it was time to do something. But just what something, she was not sure. She only knew that she’d been left invisible and alone, disappeared at the tentacles of something she still had nightmares about, and that it all, disgustingly, was the fault of this man who had reeled in and deceived not only this poor love-sick Edgar guy, but three other people and most of the musically inclined population.

She wasn’t an angry woman.

But she was justified.

She didn’t think the house would do what it did.

Finally, in the back of yet another pit of teeming mad-people, Johnny saw her standing there. He looked horrified. He looked, delightfully enough, scared.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she answered.

She tried to speak to him, intended to convey some great revelation to him, and while it never came out, he heard it anyway.

“I _do_ know you.”

He’d spoken too quietly to be heard, but in the way that he had heard what she hadn’t said, she understood him.

“I wondered how long it would take,” she told him. Speaking to him, hearing something the same and altogether different in his voice stalled her from acting. She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she was on the verge of it, for sure. 

She told him not to worry, and that he’d see her again. When he turned long enough to find the girl she now knew was called Devi, Tess ducked away from the scene. ‘Mystic Woman Routine’ could only be upheld for so long.

While she debated what she would do to him, she heard the news.

Johnny was dead.

_“If a plane were to fall from the sky_  
 _How big a hole would it leave_  
 _In the surface of the Earth?”_

She regretted one way and then the next. Regretting not having done it herself, knowing full well that, at the time, she wouldn’t have been able to, and then switching to regretting that it had happened at all.  That Edgar guy had such pained expressions when she saw him on the mass of televisions in the electronics store downtown. Johnny had fooled him so well.

A funeral, a van, and wanton graffiti made sure that Johnny never died, and she couldn’t escape seeing him. The little tribe he left behind spoke through brilliantly faked mourning or out of mournfully brilliant deception. Tess rolled her eyes at every word they spoke, going so far as to dub over their voices mockingly when she saw them on television. Except for Edgar. Edgar gave her pangs of doubt. Edgar made her wonder.

His pain looked real.

The next she knew, Edgar had someone in his house who was and wasn’t Johnny at the same time. When she went to confirm, he was already Johnny again, and this time, for reasons she wasn’t sure she grasped, he was terrified.

She caught a glimpse of Edgar and without thinking, waved to him. For a moment, she thought he’d wave back, and was slightly disappointed when he didn’t. The door closed, and she remained in her spot across the yard for a few moments.

When she made her way across the yard and crept into bushes that felt as though they were used to that kind of thing, she glanced in the window. Poor Edgar.

She wasn’t angry, but damn it, she was justified.

_“If a plane were to fall from the sky…”_


	2. Don't Cry Out

Things started so innocently that he didn’t notice they’d started.

Upon a return from a television appearance, Edgar lost a few items. Johnny told him he failed at luggage and had probably left them in the hotel. Edgar shrugged it off, figuring Johnny had to be right, though he didn’t even remember packing the items he’d lost and still felt a bit uneasy about it even after replacing them.

So when articles of clothing and a sheet or two disappeared in addition to Edgar’s razor and the washcloth he was sure he’d left on the sink, he felt something was up. Johnny maintained that he wasn’t messing with Edgar’s head, but Edgar had no other explanation. His suspicion of Johnny continued until Johnny complained that he had lost the scissors he most often used to butcher his hair.

“Where did you last see them?” Edgar asked, looking under a few towels.

“The place I looked for them! Come on, what kind of question is that?” Johnny flailed his arms, and Edgar expertly avoided being hit in the head. Over the years of knowing him, Edgar developed a very keen sense of where Johnny was in relation to himself at all times.

Johnny continued raving while Edgar took everything out of the medicine cabinet.

“That’s like, ‘Well, it’s always in the last place you look!’” Johnny shrieked. “Well, yeah, dumbass! How many years of schooling did you need for that little revelation?”

“It’s not the end of the civilized world, let it go,” Edgar said to the bottles of pills he’d never used. He filed them back into the cabinet when he found no scissors hidden inside. “Old lady wisdom won’t hurt you anymore. I’ll go find the other scissors.”

On his way downstairs, Edgar caught movement in the living room window out of the corner of his eye. He stopped nervously for a second or two, then assumed it was Pepito and continued about his business.  As he dug through the desk drawer in the dining room, he reflected that he was not scared of the Anti-Christ, but had stopped in (if only momentary) fear at the thought of a burglar.

Scissors in hand, Edgar swung by the door to see if Pepito was ready to come inside. When there was no one on the door step, he stepped out into the yard and checked the roof, shielding his eyes from the sun. No one resting on the shingles and no one hanging from the chimney. He shook his head, and turned to go back inside when he noticed that he had mail.

Mail was not a common occurance. The last time they'd recieved any had been when Johnny died. Whatever invisibility from the postal system the house had inherited from its occupants went on a several month long hiatus and Edgar received miscellaneous spam, coupons,  and packages containing animal skeletons in addition to the outpouring of sympathy notes and hysterical offers to take Johnny's place. Since Johnny had climbed his way out of Hell, the mail had trickled to a stop, and Edgar hadn’t seen so much as a flyer in that box for weeks upon weeks.

The envelope had no address or stamp or anything more than his name, which was written in some nice cursive. This had suspicious written all over it, and (since it could only grow to be more so,) Edgar took the scissors and sliced the envelope open. The paper inside was flimsy and had a coffee stain in the middle.  The letter addressed only him, and it wasn’t about Johnny. He had to admit he was surprised.

_“Edgar-_  
 _I’d like to help._  
 _Meet me at the library after it closes?”_

No signature, front or back.

He sighed, disappointed at the lack of creativity in the only admirer that had ever sent a letter addressed to him. Still, it was a milestone, movie cliché or not.

“Johnny!” Edgar called up the stairs as he re-entered the house. “I got my first stalker!”

“Did you get scissors?” Johnny yelled, leaning out over the top of the stair case. 

Edgar almost threw the scissors out of reflex.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said when Johnny flinched. “I’ll bring them up. You have to see my stalker letter, too.”

“Do they want to take your clothes off with their teeth?” Johnny asked smugly, citing the best stalker letter he’d gotten since his return from Hell. Edgar shook his head as he reached the top of the stairs.

“No, but give me some time. It took a while for you to get the real wackos, yeah?” He passed the scissors to Johnny, who took the scissors to his hair so haphazardly, Edgar wondered why a knife wouldn't have sufficed. He turned the letter over in his hands, amused.

“They want to meet you in some magical location where all your dreams will come true?” Johnny asked as he sliced through a long patch of hair.

“The library,” Edgar answered, though he was presently trying to will the letter to say ‘Ferris Wheel’ or something a little more freakish.

“Laaame.” Johnny punctuated his disapproval with a snip of the scissors.

“Hey, I’ll get my ‘hot sex in a space ship’ letter eventually.”

Johnny smirked. “That one was pretty good.”

“What should I do with it?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow and turned away from the mirror and his hair project. “Put it on the fridge with the other ones?”

“No, I mean, should I go?”

“What, and get mugged?” Johnny asked, setting the scissors down.

“By _who_?” Edgar challenged, waving the envelope in Johnny’s face. “The teenage girl with the lovely cursive handwriting?”

“You know,” Johnny said, unimpressed, “I hear Devi has nice handwriting.”

“Point.” Edgar regarded the note, and then looked back to Johnny. “Do you want to go with me, then?”

“As you’re fond of pointing out, what help is a hundred some odd pounds of bony guy going to be?”

“You just don’t want me to go.”

“Of course I don’t. It’s stupid.”

“Only because it’s _my_ stalker letter.”

“Hey, did I go have hot sex in a space ship?”

“No, but you went to that parking lot.”

Johnny crossed his arms. “It’s a bad idea, but if you want to go, take Devi with you or something.”

“You’re not coming? I think I’d feel better with you than with Devi.”

“And I’d feel better not going. Take Devi.”

The argument went around for the better part of an hour - and all across the house - before Edgar agreed to take Devi or Jimmy with him instead of Johnny. Edgar wasn’t completely sure how much better suited Jimmy would have been for dealing with muggers than Johnny, and actually considered the reasons Johnny might have had for suggesting Jimmy instead. Then he thought that maybe Johnny just wanted to give the muggers a target not Edgar while of course preserving himself in the process. Typical.

Later that evening, when the library was about to close, Edgar told Johnny he was going to get Devi. Johnny wished him luck not dying, and Edgar grabbed a coat before opening the door.

It was getting dark already, and it was drizzling. Edgar turned to find the umbrella they’d almost broken on Jimmy’s head during the tour before Johnny died. When he turned back to the door, unfurling the umbrella as he did, he saw something move near the windows.

“Pepito?” he asked the bushes.

There was nothing from the bushes, but there was a string of cursing from the room behind him.

“Holy shit, fuck, fuck, Edgar get back in here!”

He turned, confused, but listened and stepped back into the house. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going.”

“Hey, what the fuck? You’re not my mother, Nny.”

“You’re _not going._ ” He looked pointedly at Edgar and his eyes managed to convey all of ‘put that down, take off the coat, and don’t move for the next hour.’  And because Johnny had moments like this, moments in which something only he could feel was of utmost importance, Edgar put everything down, and dropped himself on the couch.

  
  


Twenty minutes later, the rain outside picked up and Edgar sighed. “What was wrong this time?” he asked.

“You didn’t feel it.”

Johnny sat in the pink chair, knees up to his chin.

“No,” Edgar answered, though it hadn’t been a question. “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

“Nny, you can’t keep things like this a ‘Magical Johnny Secret’ this time, okay?  Last time you had weird feelings of semi-irrational panic, you died shortly afterwards.”

“That woman. The one with the wall. No, she doesn’t have the wall. But that one. She knows we’re here.”

“And what? She's in our bushes trying to stop me from going to the library?” Edgar found the suggestion laughable. He was more than comfortable with Johnny getting the weird supernatural attention; Johnny was far more equipped for it anyway.

“You’re still not going.”

“Nny, I’m already not wen- goin- I’m still here.”  _Fuck._

“ _Already not went_?” Johnny snorted a small laugh into his arm and his toes curled. Edgar thought it was possible that Johnny didn't notice that he curled his toes anytime his laughter was sincere.

“Not a word.”

When Johnny’s assessment of Edgar’s grammar failure was finished, they spent the remainder of the night mocking an old game show and shouting suggestions at the contestants, even though the people on the screen had made their choices, recieved their prizes, and spent their money years before either Edgar or Johnny had even existed.

*****

Edgar felt disappointed that his only stalker letter hadn’t resulted in a grand adventure. For days, he surreptitiously checked the mailbox, offering weird excuses about seeing someone move or checking for squirrels if Johnny asked any questions. 

The box remained empty, however, and Edgar continued to look stupid every time he returned from checking it. It became difficult to conjure enough desperate need to look for squirrels to keep him from looking like a madman.  The day something finally did show up, it was a flyer for a taco place. Their slogan left quite a bit to be desired.

“‘We Cheat You Less’?” Johnny read from the flyer. “Less than what?”

Edgar shrugged. “Beats me.”

“We should try it some time.” Johnny turned the flyer over, and smiled at the crudely rendered animal mascot logo.

“Do you remember how the adventure to ‘The World’s Worst Apple Pie’ turned out?”

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

It had been fun. 

The restaurant had been visible from the side of the highway, and as soon as Johnny caught a glimpse of the sign, he ordered Tenna to take the next exit possible. The group had first argued about why it was a dumb idea, and then over what about ‘The World’s Worst Apple Pie’ would make it the worst. Crust or filling?

The parking lot had been mostly empty, but the cars that were parked in it looked like they were comfortable there. Likely the staff, but Johnny had made something up about people cursed to eat the pie until they died from it that the group decided to take as the true reason. The staff would clearly be bound to the restaurant by Hell, after all. They didn’t need cars.

Under the buzzing of the flashing neon sign identifying the establishment as simply “Restaurant,” and through the old door, they’d found themselves in a small smoke-filled dining room. Booths lined the walls, all of them yellow-from-too-much-varnish wood with worn red leather cushions. The ‘Please Seat Yourself… Whereever” sign in the entrance had been enough to convince Johnny that this was going to be the world’s best experience with purposely eating awful food, but Devi and Tenna were not swayed and had argued about whether or not the sign was grammatically sound. Edgar had just wondered aloud why he felt like he was breathing grease.

The waitress had had a lazy eye. She’d brought menus, but never placed them on the table, favoring instead to lean over and sniff Jimmy.

“Here fer pie, ‘es?” she’d rasped as though Jimmy had smelled of wanting pie.

“Yes?” Devi had answered shakily.  The woman had then shrieked at Jimmy for not answering when she spoke to him. Her lazy eye, Johnny pointed out after she returned to the kitchen in a huff, had been looking at Devi. Had he had any hunger when he came in, Edgar had been sure it was gone by that point.

The pie had looked like pie, and had smelled like pie. Jimmy had expressed disappointment that there were no limbs in the pie, and then he and Johnny had hummed something together, snickering occasionally through the song.  Tenna had taken out a stop watch while they hummed and placed it firmly in the middle of the table. When it stuck standing straight up, Devi picked her elbows off the table and made a choked noise.

"I am never touching a restaraunt table again," she gasped.

“Okay,” Tenna said, holding her finger on one of the watch’s buttons, “when this goes off, we all take a bite of this. Let’s see who gets spit on first.”

Edgar hadn't been able to pinpoint why the pie was so bad, but everything that could ever have classified this concoction as pie had failed in every way possible. There was no part of Edgar that had not responded with a wave of revulsion.

“Holy shit,” Johnny had managed seconds later, sounding choked on too-dry crust, “This is amazing.” 

Devi’s expression had been something like disgust squared – both at Johnny and the pie. Thankfully, Johnny clarified a few moments later, after downing most of the pitcher of water they’d been given.

“Do you know what this means?” Johnny had asked the others. They were, for a variety of reasons, mostly unable to respond, but Johnny hadn't sounded like he was waiting for acknowledgement. “This means that someone sat down one day, had this, and said, ‘This is so god awful that I need to make it _again_.’ " He had leaned back dramatically and slid comfortably down into a slouch. "This is my new favorite restaurant.”

Waitress Lazy-Eye had been given a giant tip that night.

“That _was_ fun," Edgar admitted. "Disgusting, but fun." 

He glanced back at the flyer to get a look what the menu was like in a place that cheated you less. Johnny gave Edgar a pleased “see?” face and stashed the flyer for the taco place near the phone.

As if on cue, the day that Edgar decided not to purposely go outside to check the mail, he caught sight of a slip of paper flattened against the window of the door. He was thrilled to think it was another invite to nowhere but found it to be only a coupon for a coffee shop.

 

_“ **Athene’s Coffee**_  
 _ Bring a friend and get one free* drink! _  
_* Free here being entirely at the discretion of the barista_   
_who will be sure you pay more for your double froth bullshit if you are an asshole.”_

 

There was entirely more disclaimer on the coupon than anything of value. Though he wondered how a local coffe place was able to give him mail now too, there was no reason for Edgar to have been given this coupon specifically. He tossed it up to being a grand opening promotion that everyone on the block had received and flicked the coupon on the table in the dining room on his way to the kitchen.

In the middle of his orange juice, Johnny came into the room and asked Edgar why he’d etched his name in the coupon.

“I what now?” Edgar asked, lowering the glass.

“Your name is on this,” Johnny said again, waving the coupon, “Were you trying the secret message thing?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Look, come on, it’s right here,” Johnny pushed. He turned the coupon over and showed Edgar the back. There, among scribbling of graphite, was ‘EDGAR’ in white. Someone had written his name on another paper above the coupon and transferred the impression.

“That wasn’t... colored on when I got it,” Edgar said, squinting at the white letters among the shiny pencil.

“Yeah, I did that.”

“Any… particular reason?”

Johnny shrugged. “Just a feeling.” 

“Well,” Edgar drank the last gulp of his juice and set it down on the counter dramatically, “maybe I should go check it out, then. It won’t even cost me anything.”

“Or it won’t cost Devi anything.”

“Devi?”

“If you’re doing stalker shit, you should be taking her with you.”

“I don’t need a body guard, come on.”

“Do you really need to see the stalker either?” Johnny asked, leaning against the wall behind him. Edgar hadn’t noticed that he’d walked in with a pretzel, but Johnny punctuated his question with a crunch on the end of it.

“It’s kind of a novelty for me, maybe?  It’s not me they come to see, you know. So if even one is… well, it’s appealing.”

“And you don’t see this ending with all of your organs spilled on the floor and your body being used to smuggle crack into other countries?” Johnny sounded neither angry nor amused, only curious.

Edgar smiled. “I have you if I need my organs spilled on the floor, actually.”

“Ooo, I think I’m just going to go in the other room and regress now. Feeling the crazy creeping in as we speak,” Johnny rolled his eyes but smiled back. “If you want to go be worshipped by the masses, I won’t stop you.”

“It’s not masses, it’s one girl.”

Johnny snorted.

“What?”

“And with your luck,” Johnny said, grinning, “it will be a _mass_ ive girl.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Edgar muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“I know,” Johnny replied. “And just think, what we have on the coupon may be missing the hearts, forever spelled with a four, and the ‘Mrs. Vargas’ notes on the side.”

“Oh, god, you think so?”

“It’s very possible,” Johnny said, tapping the coupon with the remaining pretzel rod. “You could be falling right into her trap of fangirls.” He widened his eyes and covered his mouth in mock-fright, “Oh no, mass marriage in a drive-through!”

Edgar raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have to consent to that sort of thing?”

“Not in Vegas.”

“Bullshit.”

Johnny sat down on the kitchen table, closed his eyes, and held up his right hand. “Swear.”

“They’d still need to catch me. You know, get me in the car,” Edgar pointed out.

Johnny clicked his tongue. “They have crow bars and drugs for that, Edgar, come on, keep up.”

“When did these stop being teenage girls and start being large men on motorcycles?”

“They can be both,” Johnny answered.

“So, I’m going to be captured by bearded girls on bikes with nice handwriting at a coffee shop, then, is that it?” Edgar found he was enjoying the game, as ridiculous as it had gotten.

“Mmhmm. Or, you _would_ have.”

“Would have?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, slipping off the table and taking the slip of paper from Edgar’s hand, “Your coupon expired four days ago.” He tossed the paper over his shoulder as he strolled into the next room, and Edgar watched his second chance at discovering whoever wanted to ‘help’ him flutter to meet the linoleum.

*****

With Johnny having been the death of both of Edgar’s attempts to see whoever had been leaving him things, Edgar resolved to hold onto everything that even came near the house after that. When he got something good, he reasoned, he’d break out under cover of needing tortilla chips. If he was lucky, Johnny’s ‘Edgar is full of lies’ sensor wouldn’t go off until Edgar was well on his way.

So of course, nothing came.

Weeks went by, suddenly annoying and frustrating obligations to be stitched up in front of cameras or screaming teenagers drew nearer, and Johnny remained unhelpful.

“What if Heaven is stalking me more traditionally, now?” Edgar asked one day. He was sorting through shirts and determining their likelihood to be worn for a show or if they were better left at home on the floor.

Johnny was untangling some mess of string and bracelets that had somehow fused sitting in a box on the floor of his room. “Traditional stalking? Like," he adopted a crazed expression and a faked a hunched back, ‘the ancient stalking of my people’?”

“No, I mean, less with the magic book and more with the weird notes.”

“No- _tuh_. _Note_. Singular.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Sure I do.” 

Edgar had gone on to ask about why Johnny didn’t just cut the string that was wound so tightly around the bracelets, but Johnny reacted as through Edgar had suggested he slit a kitten’s throat. The string was fucking special, apparently, and Edgar was horrible for even suggesting cutting it. Edgar failed to grasp why such ‘special’ string was being kept in a dusty old box in a corner of a room Johnny never used, but decided the issue wasn't worth pushing and let Johnny work on his string alone.

*****

Life in the van was the same as always, though now Devi sometimes took over driving duty if the stretch of highway was particularly straight. Jimmy had said something about everyone learning to drive so the group could drive in shifts on one particularly long night trip. Tenna thanked some deity no one had ever heard of and Johnny punctuated his laughter with the toss of some cheese curls in Jimmy’s direction. 

"There is no way," Johnny said through a mouthful of the orange snack, "that I would ever chauffeur the rest of you losers around."  

Predictably, the conversation degraded into Jimmy complaining about Edgar three sentences after Johnny spoke...

“Why don’t we just have people pay to see a Jimmy and Edgar cage match?” Tenna asked.  She was stooped over to retrieve her can of juice from the machine at the truck stop. A pitstop had been mandatory when the bickering degraded into bloodshed. “I think it’d be more profitable than shows, and just think! I won’t have to make one of them look dead artificially!”

“When you can teach the dead to play guitar, Tenna, let me know,” Devi sipped her drink casually.

“You think Edgar would win?” Tenna asked.

“He’s bigger.”

“Yeah, but Jimmy has something like five years of built up sexual frustration. That’s a lot of firepower.”

Devi tapped the edge of her can against her chin in thought. “So this is like, the battle of the gay?” Tenna nodded sagely in response and Devi just let the idea run. “Wow, this has got to be like negative numbers or something,” she said, expression brightening. “Jimmy’s lack of action compared with Edgar’s positive… I think they’d implode.”

“Cancel each other out?” Tenna offered, trying to point with her juice bottle.

“Yeah, just,” Devi made a ‘poof’ing hand gesture, “gone.”

“We need to learn to bottle gay, Devi. I think we’re on to something.”

Edgar, who was standing at a first-aid box nearby and had grown tired of the conversation, piped up when he finally managed to get the bandage he’d been fighting with to stick to his skin.

“I’m not gay,” he grumbled. “Though I’m glad you think I’d win.”

“I _do_ ,” Tenna replied, grinning. “Maybe it’s Nny-sexual we need to be bottling instead?”

Edgar rolled his eyes, rubbing at the new bandage. Jimmy returned from sticking his face in the nearby water fountain moments later.

“You’re lucky I fell over,” he told Edgar. Their relationship had long ago stopped being hostile, so even with a gash on his face, Jimmy sported a wide smile.

“And thank Pepito I didn’t unleash my full terror,” Edgar shot back with his best imitation of arrogance. “You wouldn’t have a face _left_.”

Johnny, who’d been remarkably quiet for the entire scene, finally spoke up from the hood of the van, where he’d been sitting, waiting.

“Did you just imply that _you_ worshipped Pepito, Edgar, or that Jimmy did?”

For some reason, a question that Edgar assumed was meant to make some harmless linguistic fun of him bothered him for hours, and he found himself pondering it long after the road signs stopped looking familiar.

*****

People wanted to know what had happened to Johnny. They flocked to shows and interviews to hear whatever story Johnny was offering to explain where he had been and how he’d come back. Johnny’s answers were never the same, but were never directly contradictory either. As it stood, months after his resurrection, no one attending the concerts was sure if they were seeing the same Johnny as before, or a cyborg-vampire-zombie replacement version.

Johnny liked the idea of people thinking he was a zombie only until Tenna wanted to cover him in paste and paint him green.

Performances continued almost as they always had, with the new addition of guest appearances by Johnny’s hell-coat. Make-up stars remained a lasting theme, even though Jimmy had suggested skulls and rabbits being hit by trucks at some point after Johnny’s resurrection. The truck-rabbits were supposedly symbolic of something, but as for what of, no one but Jimmy seemed to know. The stars, meanwhile, had become color-coded along the way -Johnny’s star stayed blue, Devi’s purple, Jimmy’s orange and Edgar’s green - even if the rest of their individual outfits for that particular show had nothing to do with those colors. Despite that she usually went unseen for performances, Tenna often gave herself a gold star. She reflected often, and aloud, that she knew how sad it was, thanks.

What had changed about shows wasn’t tangible. There were discussions about it in the hotel rooms, convenience stores and van seats afterwards, but nothing could ever be nailed down. Johnny said cryptic things, perhaps indicating that he knew everything, perhaps trying to prevent everyone from learning that he knew nothing, but it got them nowhere.  Whatever it was, it meant that the Homicides shows now included lots of Johnny talking.

Before the last few songs, Johnny told the audience things. Sometimes, just little bits of fortune cookie wisdom, other times long rants that ended in confused applause. He’d respond to things he’d seen written about the group in general, and invite his cohorts to throw in a comment here and there if he thought they’d help his case. Devi once got to explain in excruciating detail how much she delighted in the idea of stupid people being tortured to death. Johnny had looked incredibly proud of her (‘pleased’ was not really strong enough) and she even seemed to get a bit of a rush from it.

He told the audience stories, he steered people away from rumors he didn’t like and spread the ones he found amusing, and he gave people something they enjoyed, but weren’t really expecting. Edgar and the others often wondered if they were ever going to play the final song and go to bed for the night, but even they were entertained by Johnny’s little detours.

Edgar asked him why he did it on more than one occasion, but Johnny rarely got to the answer directly, if at all. Any issue Edgar brought up was approached from the sides and woven around. If Johnny was good at anything, it was steering his way out of things he didn’t want to deal with. Once, under cover of distracted make-up removal in yet another shitty hotel room, Edgar managed to get something reasonably concrete out of him.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Edgar explained, pulling string and wax from his skin. “I’m just curious. Is this a souvenir from being dead?” He was sitting on an ugly grey hotel couch, piling the wax and string on the table in front of him.

“I don’t think so. Not directly.”

Johnny was busy trying to shake flecks of glitter from his hair while walking around the room. Someone in the audience that night had brought bags and bags of the stuff and had asked other audience members to throw it at opportune moments. Johnny had thought it was hilarious at the time. “I’m never going to stop fucking sparkling now, shit. Look at this! It’s like shedding shiny head flakes!”

“You’ll get over looking fabulous for a day or two, don’t worry about it.”

“I think it’s even in my teeth,” Johnny muttered, staring into a decorative mirror on the wall by the doorway.

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“You’re getting better at picking that up.”

“So since you’re still not offering the information, I’m asking again: What are you doing with the long talks?”

Johnny shook his head and fell into a worn-looking old chair, a small cloud of glitter bursting from his hair and then settling on black clothes. “It’s just something there. It’s something I want to be doing. I think it’s important.”

“They were all a ‘teeming mass of morons’ to you, last I checked. What’s different now?”  The stitches Tenna had molded across Edgar’s collar bone fought against being removed, and Edgar picked at the wax-y string mess through most of the conversation.

“None of those people are as bad as what I saw somewhere else?” Johnny sounded as though he hadn’t meant to sound so unsure. He ran a hand over the back of his head, fluffing glitter into his face. “And I wonder if there’s anyone out there that I owe.”

Edgar stopped pulling string from his skin for a moment. “You think she’s watching somewhere?”

“She showed up in our _yard_ , Edgar.”

“You're sure that was her, huh? Have you felt her out there?”

“Have I had a – No. I haven’t,” Johnny answered, dusting some glitter from his arm. He spoke up again when he saw Edgar’s raised eyebrow. “I was going to say, ‘Have I had a gigantic freak out up there?’ but maybe the answer to that is different for different people.”

“It doesn’t look like anything more than you being you to us, so it’s not a problem, like I said before. We’re just curious.”

“Well, now you know.”

“You going to keep doing it?”

“You need to ask?”

“What do you think she wants?” With a frustrated tug on the string near his neck, Edgar gave up on removing the mess for the moment and leaned back into the couch.

“Probably to eat me. Use my organs to make sausage.”

“And your skull to hold punch?”

“Pretty much.”

“What gives you the impression that Ankh the Viking Maniac is after your organs, really?” Edgar spoke to, and gestured toward, the ceiling. Something he’d picked up from Johnny, he imagined. It only crossed his mind for a moment to correct it, and even then he decided against it.

Johnny pulled his arms in close to his chest. “She makes me remember unpleasant things.”

“That’s not quite a reason to go after people in the night, though.”

“If she knows it happens, it is.”

“I don’t think she does.”

“Oh?” Johnny looked up from staring at the carpet just moments after Edgar glanced down from absorbing the pattern of cracks in the ceiling.

“You don’t think she’d have broken into the house by now if she knew she made your brain go crazy?”

“She’s trying to make me crazy with the threat of crazy,” Johnny said.

“Oh, come on.”

“I felt things collapse in there when she talked to me!” Johnny flailed his hands around his head briefly before settling into a cross-armed sigh. “She wants something horrible to happen to me.”

“Nny, this is going to surprise you, but I think you should be aware of it.”

“Mm?”

“The world does not revolve around you. Not _everyone_ is stalking you.”

Johnny smiled, more at the table in the center of the room than at Edgar, but Edgar felt it was meant for him at the very least.  “It’s not _everyone_ , but it’s more than you’ve got.”

“One day, you’ll wish you only had one determined stalker, and not a million average ones.” Edgar tried to keep the tone high and mighty, but he suspected a smile gave him away.

Johnny laughed. “I already had one of those. He usually plays guitar these days.”

“You know,” Edgar said, scratching at some loose strings on the ugly couch, “I kind of wished she’d show up at one of these shows.”

“Your stalker?”

“Yeah, I just thought it’d be nice or something.”

Johnny shrank slightly into his chair. “I think I just saw a trace of romanticizing madness in that expression and I’m thinking that Devi and Tenna’s room is looking more appealing with every second.” 

“It’s not like that,” Edgar told him, throwing a decorative pillow in Johnny’s direction. “It’s just this great idea to me that I could be the interesting one to someone. She’s probably harmless.”

“ _I_ don’t find you uninteresting,” Johnny said defensively.

“But comparatively? Really? You get all the attention. And I’m okay with that, but a deviation isn’t unwelcome.”

Johnny shrugged. “Everyone likes attention.”

“I suppose the person it’s coming from makes the difference, then.” Edgar knew it wasn't new, or even particularly deep information, but it came out anyway.

“The difference between you and Jimmy,” Johnny slid off the chair, a small puff of glitter settling on the cushion, and joined Edgar on the couch.

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Edgar said disapprovingly. “He’s not all that bad. If _I_ can enjoy his company, then- AH!” He was cut off by a sharp pain in his neck.  When his vision returned to normal, he saw Johnny toss what had been the remaining wax and string from his neck onto the table in front of them.

“That was bothering me,” Johnny said.

“God, how about some warning next time?” He rubbed his neck and glared at Johnny, who only grinned in response.

“You’d never have let me do it.”

“Exactly!”

“You should be used to it already,” Johnny grumbled, dropping his head on Edgar’s shoulder.

“In case you missed it, I generally take that stuff off slowly.”

“Why not just take a hair dryer to it? Or hot water or something? Melt it off.”

“Something about wax and string getting all slimy and then sliding down– ugh, no.” He shivered even thinking about it, and though Johnny laughed at him, he completely agreed.

Silence followed. There was no television here to stare at (,though, to be fair, Johnny and Edgar had sworn off of hotel televisions no matter how clean the room), nothing to claim to be staring at, nothing to even pretend to occupy either of their attentions. Edgar relished it. Closeness almost just for the sake of closeness. ‘Almost’ because he was sure this would somehow end in a joke at his expense, but Johnny’s defense mechanism bothered him less and less as time went on. Johnny's jabs at Edgar’s worthiness as a person, or his grammar, or resemblance to Jimmy were more often interpreted as Johnny’s twisted renditions of ‘I love you’ than anything actually malicious. Edgar had not only began to enjoy jokes and jabs, but sometimes participated in them. Maybe making fun of himself meant ‘I love you, too,’ in Johnny-speak.

The tiniest bits of Johnny’s song drifted through Edgar’s mind when Johnny fell asleep where he sat. Though he knew the kind of hell his shoulder would be feeling later, and that Johnny needed better sleep than he would get on Edgar's shoulder, Edgar sat and just listened. If he timed it just right, Edgar discovered his own song sounded a bit better with Johnny’s weaving through it.

*****

Tenna took a wrong turn somewhere after she’d slowed down the van so the group could stare at an accident on the road. Johnny had assured her she wouldn’t have to be the one initiating the slowing, nor would she be the only one doing it since everyone slowed down near accidents despite that all the people that had been hurt already were, in fact, hurt, and being hit by another car wouldn’t really worsen their situation. He’d been right, but he hadn’t been paying attention to where Tenna went when the accident was out of view.

“We just passed some stuff about a Safari Sam’s,” he said distantly, ignoring a request for directions or the map from under the seat. “We could just turn around, get some pizza and raid the ball pits.”

“And what?” Devi asked angrily. “Tell them we’ve all got a glandular problem and we’re really nine years old? Gimme the map.”

“Edgar looks a lot younger without the beard,” Tenna pointed out cheerily. “Does anyone else remember that?”

“I do,” Jimmy replied, nodding. He sat cross-legged on the floor behind Tenna, reading a trashy magazine and laughing at the rumors inside. “Devi, this article thinks you’re pregnant! This is hilarious!”

“What?” Devi reached around from the front seat and snatched the magazine from Jimmy’s grasp, leaving the map forgotten.  She turned page after page with an increasing expression of disgust and confusion. “We’ve never even _been_ to a beach together! Where would they get photos like this?”

Johnny leaned over the seat and peered into the magazine from over Devi’s shoulder. “It’s doctored, come on.” He pointed at a picture of the woman with Devi’s head and jabbed at it a few times, “You don’t have a mole on your thigh like that. It’s someone else.”

Devi shot him an expectant glance. “What, not going to offer to clear it up for me at a show?”

“Not going to _ask_ me to?” Johnny rolled his eyes and switched to leaning on Tenna’s seat. “Pizza and a ballpit, Tenna?”

“You want us to crash a small child’s birthday party, Nny?” Her grip on the wheel tightened.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I vote we go and leave Devi in the car so she doesn’t accidentally kill the baby,” Jimmy added from the back.  Johnny ducked at precisely the right moment to avoid being hit by Devi’s boots as she tore out of the seat. With the scuffle and some shrieking as background noise, Johnny asked again.

“Pizza and ballpit?”

“Fuck you, Johnny,” Tenna grumbled as she veered onto the exit ramp.  Johnny sat back, satisfied, and contented himself with watching Devi try to bite Jimmy’s wrists off and knee him between the legs.

“Whoa, whoa, out of bounds! Below the belt!” Edgar called from the back.  Devi and Jimmy ignored him - Devi because she was winning, Jimmy probably because his brain had been knocked offline. Tenna told them all they were going to Hell.

*****

The building had been around for a while. The atmosphere inside was dirty and actually _smelled_ as though it had norrowly avoided more than a few lawsuits in its time. An animatronic band of animal mascots barely playing instruments clanged in the background, and much of what had been the building’s color scheme had flaked away. The décor was supposed to resemle a jungle, but whatever budget they’d had for it ten years ago had never gone up, or more likely decreased; some of the vines were deflated, and the ones that weren’t had faded to an ugly grayish blue. The leafy jungle scenes painted on the walls, already crudely made, had pleasantries like ‘fuck,’ ‘plz die’ and ‘AF was here’ chipped out of them.

Some poor teenager in a giant yellow monkey suit greeted Johnny and the others with exaggerated pantomime. Johnny mimicked his dance back at him until the guy inside the suit realized the group didn’t have any kids with them.

“It’s okay,” Tenna said to the monkey-man as the rest of the group walked by him, “we’re with the band.” She gestured to the robotic monstrosities on the wall, patted his shoulder knowingly, and then strolled into the main room with the others.

They sent Edgar to the front desk to quiz the girl there about the sanitation levels of the giant tubes while the others snuck into the back corner of the building where the private parties were being held. Johnny charmed his way in to one easily, and with most of the kids locked on him and his blue hair, Jimmy shuffled pizza on plates out the door to Devi, who glared menacingly at any children who came too close.

Pizza secured, Tenna slipped into the jungle gym and shoved a few kids around while Devi snuck out with Jimmy in tow. Once Tenna had enough of the kids fighting and tearing at each other to cause a scene, she waved for Johnny to cut down on the charming and screamed something about a blood-bath to get the attention of the woman that Edgar had been distracting.

As they slinked away from the front desk and under some play equipment to eat their pizza in peace, Johnny heard the woman who’d been at the desk shriek that there was too much blood and he cackled into his pepperoni.  Monkey-man, rather than ratting them out, took off his monkey head, held it over his heart, and bowed in their direction before meandering off to the Skee-Ball stations along the far wall, far away from the bleeding children.

“Okay,” Tenna said through a mouthful of pizza, “I take back everything I said about thinking this was retarded.”

“We haven’t even seen the best parts yet,” Johnny grinned at her.

They didn’t fit in a few of the tubes, which, after talking to the woman at the desk, Edgar declared no interest in going into anyway, so after trying out a few of the more dangerous toys and games, the group dove into the ball pits they came for. 

With the kids still in a bloody birthday party uproar, a few stray ‘adults’ had no problems claiming the pit as their own. Jimmy cleared most of the children out by threatening to eat them in German and Johnny had a few of the larger kids swear allegiance to him and used them as sentinels to guard the mesh gates and the tubes leading into the pit. When anyone approached the entrances, Johnny’s guards beat them with the hardest shoes they could find on the shoe rack. Johnny expressed disappointment that women with stilettos were so rarely storing their shoes there. Jimmy and Edgar both sent him nervous glances.

Devi and Tenna managed to create a wall of the rainbow-colored plastic balls and took to lobbing balls (and some other things they found at the bottom of the pit) at Jimmy and Edgar.  Edgar, proving to be surprisingly into the game, grabbed one of the sentinels from the front mesh and used him as a meat shield until Jimmy built a wall of balls, shoes and lost prizes. The boy was quickly tossed up to be a casualty of war and crawled back to his post, a little shaken.

Johnny watched from the sidelines, pleased with everything and just enjoying the view, until Jimmy unleashed a deadly weapon that destroyed both ball forts in mere moments.

A lost retainer.

Devi, usually not one to react drastically to disgusting things, got the offending mouth piece stuck her hair when Jimmy threw it. She yelled for Tenna to just chop the ponytail off, it wasn’t worth saving, while Jimmy and Edgar mocked her from the other corner.

“No, Tenna!” Jimmy gasped dramatically, pulling the back of his hand to his forehead and falling into Edgar’s lap. “Save yourself! Kill me now! I’ll be a tooth zombie within hours!”

Edgar shook Jimmy’s shoulders with one hand, while holding the other to his chest. “Never! True love will triumph over any misaligned roots in our way!”

“Fuck you both!” Devi hollered from the other end of the pit, trying to fight her way out of Tenna’s grip. In her frustration, she began throwing balls wildly, most of them hitting the mesh walls of the enclosure and falling flat with a dull click, but one managed to hit Johnny.

Once Johnny was in the game, all allegiances were broken. Devi hit Tenna with something that was neither retainer nor plastic ball and Jimmy cracked Edgar in the jaw with a pink size three sneaker. Footing was nearly impossible to get a hold of, even as people several feet taller than the usual Safari Sam’s patron. Johnny, who usually moved so fluidly, tripped on the hell-coat and his own feet more often than on the plastic mess that made up the floor. He was a decent shot if he stayed still, though it wasn’t hard to hit people in the tiny space.

Edgar preferred ducking under shots thrown at him and then striking when the others were unarmed. Jimmy told him it was horribly unsportsmanlike to attack an unarmed man before Devi smacked Jimmy in the temple with a red ball. He yelled something about her still being on Tenna’s team.

“Of course I am,” she said, smiling sweetly at Jimmy while nailing Johnny in the shoulder with a yellow ball, “I’m hitting you guys _much_ harder.”

“Devi, I believe that sounds borderline sexist,” Edgar offered, ducking under the ball she threw at him and throwing something, it looked like a small stuffed animal, at Tenna.

“Do you think so?” She blocked a shoe from Jimmy.

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, really,” he dodged a ball from Johnny, “if you look at it, Tenna’s pretty solid, and Johnny,” dodged another, “could probably be broken right in half with one of these if you hit him on just the right spot.”

“Since if you’re offering this knowledge, Edgar,” Tenna said deviously, catching a ball that had come at her from parts unknown, “you want to share where that spot is?”

For once, Tenna attempts at flustering Edgar failed, and he only laughed at her, “I can’t tell you things like that, that’d be kind of horrible of me.” A stray ball bounced off of his shoulder.

“He doesn’t know where it is, Tenna,” Devi yelled over Jimmy’s plastic war-cry, "or we’d have seen Johnny broken already!” A yellow ball from Edgar hit Devi’s ear and Jimmy crashed into the floor beside her in an explosion of colors.

“The next time I go to Hell,” Johnny yelled from a far corner of the pit, “I’m taking you all with me!”

“Aw, Nny, you’d take all of us?” Jimmy asked sweetly after a toy he threw hit Edgar’s neck.

“Yeah, you too,” Johnny said, stumbling closer to the others. “I think I’d use you as a footstool.”

“Maybe Johnny can find _Jimmy’s_ breaking-in-half point, eh?” Tenna grinned and elbowed Devi suggestively, who responded by snapping a ball in Tenna’s face.

“God, was she always like this?” Edgar asked, getting Devi’s attention by tossing a shoe at her hip.

“Edgar, do not make me make a ‘balls’ joke.  If you make me go there, I promise you go home with a squeak toy from the prize rack in your throat,” Devi dented the green ball in her hand to emphasize her threat.

“And yes,” Johnny added, answering Edgar’s question, “I think Tenna _was_ always like this.”

“She knew you guys were happening before you were actually happening,” Jimmy bounced another toy off of Edgar’s head. “And she reminded us often.”

“I’m not sure I’m okay with the wording of that,” Edgar said.

He backed into the mesh wall and leaned against it for some vague sort of support while he threw whatever he had at the others. The collection of stuff being thrown had grown from the balls, toys and shoes provided for them, to objects found in pockets and a few things that no one would confess being the originator of. The little guards had long since fled, and no new kids felt safe joining into a game involving large people in black swearing loudly and laughing gleefully at the mention of breaking each other.

The fight continued, banter and swearing included, until it grew into pushing and tripping and the plastic rainbow around them became only an obstacle to attempted punches and a dunking opportunity. Teams were re-established, with Johnny as an outside force of his own again.  He protested that it wasn’t fair for him to be alone since Jimmy was so much better at keeping his footing, but, for once, no one seemed to be listening to him.

Things blurred together in a mass of colors and yelling and children’s shoes. Contrary to Johnny's previous objections, Jimmy fell over just as many times as he did, if not more. Tenna was not far behind. Edgar had amazing balance and control in the sea of plastic and faltered only once, when, in an attempt to work his way onto a team, Johnny grabbed onto Edgar’s wrist and pinned it against the mesh. He twisted Edgar’s wrist until Edgar dropped whatever ammo he’d been armed with. Despite attacks from all sides, Johnny didn't move. He continued pinning Edgar to the mesh until Edgar’s knees gave him up for dead and he sagged against the netting. Edgar grabbed Johnny’s coat as he slid down the net, and Johnny simply laughed at him. 

And then, for some reason that the others and their plastic bullets couldn’t decipher, stealing a position on Edgar's team for a childish game of “Hit Other People” involved determinedly kissing him against the mesh walls that held the entire game together.

Suddenly, the sound effects of monkey screeches and lion roars were loudly interrupted on the loudspeaker: “If the disgusting shenanigans in the ball pit could be put to a halt and its participants escorted out of the building-”

“Funny that she only mentions us back here when something looks gay,” Tenna grumped, crossing her arms.  “We had to have screamed ‘fuck’ a good twenty times.”

The woman’s voice on the loudspeaker repeated her announcement until she, like the monkeys before her, was cut off.  The music that replaced her sounded at first like it belonged in a children’s playground and wasn't out of place at all. But it didn't stay that way.

 _“I don't get you …  
I can't forget what you've forgotten_ ”

“Don’t we know this one?” Edgar asked, still pinned between Johnny and the net-wall.

“Yeah…” Devi nodded. No one could see her feet specifically under the layer of rainbow plastic, but the way a few of them bobbed in time with the music showed she knew this song particularly well.

_“Don't Cry Out…  
Cease Fire…”_

“Hey guys?” Johnny’s voice sounded smaller than usual. No one listened.

 

 _“Ten nine eight and I'm breaking away_  
I'm all dressed up and I'm ready to play  
Seven six five four and I'm all over you  
Counting three two one and I'm having fun...”

“Guys, we need to leave.” Again, he was met with nothing. Johnny let go of Edgar, who slid down the net and into the pit without support. The noise of Edgar crashing into the balls seemed to be enough to get the others from staring at the speakers overhead and Johnny tried again.  “Guys, really.”

_“I needed you to notice…  
That’s all I wanted…”_

Still nothing. Even Jimmy wasn’t keen on listening. “Nny, what the hell? Since when are you bothered by people in uniform telling you to do something?” 

“Okay,” Johnny said, gesturing to nothing, “do we all remember the thing in the hotel?”

“In a playground?!”

“Can we go now?" A request. From Johnny.

 

_“Don't Cry Out…  
Cease Fire…”_

 

Edgar pried himself off the floor and started shuffling toward the exit, pulling Johnny along with him. “I think we should go.”

The others followed, in various states of protest, trailing balls and toys and some general trash out of the enclosure with them. Devi was so irritated she threw the retainer at Johnny's back. Somewhere by the front desk, Johnny burst into gibberish, but no one saw what caused it. The only word they understood was ‘van,’ so, after a farewell bow to Monkey-man, they climbed back in, and Tenna took them to the road.

A few miles away, Johnny returned to normal, and lamented that they hadn’t stolen nearly enough pizza and that he never saw the bleeding kid. Tenna threatened to throw him in a ditch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiny Toy Guns - Don't Cry Out


	3. Run Away

The drive was long, dusty, and mostly silent after Johnny’s return to reasonably normal. Tenna occasionally clicked her tongue in disapproval of nothing and everything. The little skeleton toy she’d made in high school hung from the rearview mirror and sporadically tapped the windshield. Tenna saw Johnny in the rearview mirror, predicting the toy’s clicks and apparently finding a kind of tune in it. 

“So, we used to be invisible,” Jimmy said suddenly, echoing Tenna’s thoughts, “and yet we let ourselves get kicked out of a shitty Safari Sam’s?”

“No,” Johnny answered.

“That’s what it looked like to me,” Tenna said, narrowing her eyes and driving on near-autopilot.

“ _No_ ,” Johnny said again. He screwed up his face and looked like he was straining to concentrate, but seemed to have lost track of the tune the skeleton toy was giving him.

“Then what the hell was it?” Tenna prodded. “As soon as that lady interrupted your little moment, you wanted to get the fuck out.”

Something from behind Devi’s seat suddenly slammed into the windshield, and Tenna swerved in response. Jimmy and Edgar both managed to hit the side of the van as it veered off the road while Devi braced herself against the dashboard and the passenger side window. Johnny never moved.

Tenna tried to wring the steering wheel in her hands as the van sat motionless near a ditch filled with long yellowed grass on the side of the road. Usually, Tenna thought, it was easy to judge whether she had crossed a line, or if Johnny had, but now she wasn’t sure. She wanted to yell something but Johnny was already flailing about whatever had motivated him to leave the stupid Safari place and why he'd thrown something and a bunch of shit that Tenna just couldn't be bothered to care about. It wasn’t worth it to scream over him, so she just stepped out of the van, slamming the door behind her.

Devi and Jimmy followed suit, though Jimmy had to be threatened to do so. He found something to do behind the van, probably spying at Edgar and Johnny through the back window, while Devi spread herself over the hood, asking the sky why some higher power hadn’t run her over or otherwise struck her down already.  Tenna wandered along the ditch, kicking rocks and abandoned beer cans into it. One day, when it didn’t involve endangering everyone else, Tenna decided she was just going to say ‘fuck it’ to indulging Johnny’s random fits of crazy. One glorious day.

A car drove by, and Tenna thought the people in it were pointing at her. Or at least at her van.  
  
Edgar poked his head out of the window just then. “Sorry about him being a pain, guys.”  
  
“Daddy Edgar will make it all better,” Devi cooed mockingly.  
  
Edgar frowned. "That's not-"

“What, Nny can't apologize for his own bullshit?” Jimmy demanded.  
  
“Fuck you, Jimmy!” Johnny called from inside the van.

While the others argued, Tenna continued to fake extreme interest in the ditch. She kicked a can into the ditch several feet ahead of the van. The satisfying clink she expected to hear was replaced with something more muffled. Intrigued, she strolled away from the downward spiral of an argument to investigate.

It looked to be just some abandoned clothing that had found their way into the ditch. Maybe another of those mystery pairs of pants that can be found on any highway in the world, though no one understands how they get there (which are almost as mysterious as the 'single shoe on the side of the road' phenomenon, but not quite). 

Tenna shrugged, sighed, and was about to turn around to herd the group back into the van when she realized the abandoned pair of mystery pants was breathing. When she leaned in closer, Tenna saw dark hair pulled back intp pigtails among the grass and dirt. A little girl. Sleeping in a ditch. Tenna put her hands on her hips, and tilted her head.

“Huh.”

“Whadja find?” Johnny had emerged in the madness of the argument and seemed miraculously better. The others could still be heard half-heartedly bickering around the van without him.

“ _Huh_.”

“Tenna, seriously,” Johnny slid up to Tenna’s side and gazed into the ditch with her.

“ _Huh_ ,” he echoed.

“Yeah.”

“She look dead to you?”

“I think she’s breathing, actually.”

Johnny clapped a hand on Tenna's shoulder.“Oh, well, let’s get going then.” 

“Wait, what?” Tenna turned to see Johnny climbing back into the van. He stuck his head back out after a few seconds, pointed at Tenna and made a mimed steering motion. Tenna stuck out her lower lip, but resisted yelling at him. There was no reason to start all the crazy Johnny shit up again.

She stared into the ditch at the small girl sleeping among the yellowed grass and decided, Johnny be damned, that she was going to do something decent.

*****

“Tenna, what is that?” Devi eyed the pile of clothing that Tenna dropped into Jimmy’s usual chair.

“It’s… a girl.”

Edgar, who’d been reading a magazine in the back since he had been relieved of ‘making Johnny shut up’ duty, kicked his way through some trash to see into the seat.

“What are you doing with her? Where did you _find_ her?” He didn’t sound like he thought what Tenna was doing was decent at all.

“Just over there,” Tenna said, pointing out of the passenger side window.

“You can’t just abduct kids from the side of the road!” he fretted.

“Pretty sure you can’t just leave them there, either,” Johnny chimed in, though he sounded completely disinterested. He was curled into the seat beside the pile of girl, sliding some pieces around on a cheap plastic puzzle he’d won, or maybe strolen, from a crane game at Safari Sam’s.

“This is sort of like leaving kittens in a box on the side of the road, right?” Jimmy offered. “Like they want to be found?”

“Quick, Ten,” Devi grabbed Tenna’s shoulder dramatically, “put her back before we get our stench on her, or the mother will come back later and eat her.”

“Um, Devi, the _police_?” Edgar tried with a trace of panic.

“Oh, come on,” Devi teased, poking Edgar’s shoulder, “I didn’t mean it. We’ll take her to someone.”

“‘S’not gonna work,” Johnny muttered, slipping the last piece of the puzzle in place. At the same moment, the girl stirred, and any attention given to Johnny’s comment was lost.

The group, save for Johnny, who remained in his seat, crowded around the chair containing the girl. Tenna knelt down in front of the chair, prepared to tackle the girl’s likely panic and bracing herself for impact.

Rather than scream, the girl only blinked up at the people staring at her.

“Umm, hi,” she said.

Tenna looked startled by the girl’s plain reaction, but continued relatively unshaken, “Hi sweetie. Are you lost?”

Jimmy muttered something, and Devi elbowed him in the ribs. “Not in front of kids,” she hissed. “Jeez, what’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t think I’m lost,” the girl told Tenna.

“Where are your parents?” Tenna tried to maintain even some level of calm, but the girl looked only confused at her questioning.  Tenna sighed. “What’s your name, hun?”

“Steph-a-nie,” the girl answered, emphasizing each syllable.

“Okay then, Stephanie. We’ll take you to some people who can help you, okay?”

“Okay,” Stephanie answered cheerily. When she nodded her head, her dirty pigtails bobbed over her shoulders.

Tenna regarded the girl for a few moments and then returned hesitantly to the driver’s seat. Devi clicked the seatbelt in the seat next to her and then opened a candy bar she found in the glove compartment.

“Seems awfully okay for an abandoned kid, doesn’t she?” Devi asked, staring at her chocolate.

“Yeeeah, that worries me a little,” Tenna nodded, starting the engine. “I wonder if she’s in shock or something.”

Devi turned in her seat to look over her shoulder. "Stephanie, if you need anything, Edgar back there is in charge of getting it." She pointed Edgar out for emphasis.

"Hey, wait a minute, I didn't-"

"Okay!" Stephanie chirped.

  
  


“So where you from?” Johnny asked suddenly, breaking the silence of some fifty miles.

The girl beside him answered when no one else did.

“Uhh…,” she answered, staring straight up.

“The roof, huh?” Johnny glanced at the ceiling. Edgar appeared from the back and stepped between the seats holding juice boxes.

“Here,” he said, “I found these in the back.”

Johnny took one of the boxes, but didn’t bother with acknowledging Edgar. Instead, he spoke to Stephanie. “You know you’re staying, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Nny, she can’t stay here!” Edgar, for some reason, was surprised at Johnny’s behavior. “She belongs somewhere!”

“Yeah,” Johnny replied, peeling some glue from the back of the juice box, “here.”

“I think that’s kidnapping,” Jimmy observed from behind them. His mouth was full of cheese puffs.

“Someone find the calendar and put ‘Jimmy Made Fucking Sense’ on today,” Devi called from the front.

“Devi!” Tenna snapped as she jerked the wheel. 

Devi shot an apologetic glance at the girl behind her. “Sorry sweetie,” she mumbled. Stephanie smiled at her in response.

Jimmy made a huffing noise and Johnny pulled the calendar from under his seat. He scrawled something on it before tucking it away again. Devi gave him a nod.

“Anyway, we can’t keep her here. Jimmy is right,” Devi winced at her own words, “it’s kidnapping.”

“Suit yourself,” Johnny said, shrugging. “You’ll see.”

*****

“I can’t even fucking believe you,” Tenna growled as she and Johnny left the first police station they’d come across, a cheerful Stephanie in tow.   
  
“Oh _no_ , Tenna,” Johnny mocked, waving his hands towards the girl, “not in front of _her_!”

Stephanie was paying no attention at all, and was instead watching a passing squirrel.  
  
“They had no idea! They knew you because you were DEAD once and that was it! Wouldn’t even look at her!”  
  
“I tried to tell you guys, but _nooo_ , Johnny’s never been _right_ before.”  
  
“But we couldn’t not try,” Tenna sighed. “It was worth a shot wasn’t it?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“I mean for normal people.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“So she stays with us, then?” Tenna asked. “Until we figure something out?”  
  
“Sure,” Johnny answered casually, “we can make anyone visible.”

He strolled back to the van with no concern at all.

 

Edgar listened to the recap of events in the police station with horror, “And no one can see her? This young?”   
  
“Nope,” Tenna said, shaking her head. “No one but people like us, I guess. ‘Fellowship in invisible’ or something like that.”  
  
“How did she learn to talk, or walk or… anything?”  
  
“Same way we all did,” Johnny said, shrugging. “She just did. I can’t decide if she’s luckier, or if we were.”  
  
“About what?” Edgar asked. He didn’t look at Johnny as he spoke, but instead at the small girl having a staring contest with Jimmy on the floor between the seats in the front of the van.  
  
“She’s going to remember _being_ this young. We bottom out at what, Devi, ten? Maybe nine?”  
  
“Something like that,” Devi answered, nodding. “It’s approximate.”  
  
“I remember being about ten,” Edgar said slowly.

"Do you remember the year the school was locked down because of the haunted toilet and the whole town freaked out about it?" Devi asked.

"Yes? I was really young then, and kind of terrified of the whole thing."

“Hey, congratulations,” Johnny grinned. “Maybe you’re our second oldest.”  
  
“I’m older than you?”  
  
“Ha, even Tenna’s older than me,” Johnny laughed. “Aside from our new acquisition here, I’m the youngest.”  
  
“I… I hadn’t even thought about it before,” Edgar said, blinking. “It seems weird now, but I don’t think I ever even thought it relevant.”  
  
“Not like it changes anything,” Johnny said with a satisfied smile. “Those two have always known and I’m _still_ in charge.”  
  
“Speaking of our newest,” Devi broke in, “what do you propose we do with her?”  
  
“Eh, let’s worry about it later,” Johnny answered dismissively. “It’ll take a while to get her seen anyway.”  
  
“This doesn’t strike me as a ‘later’ situation,” Edgar said, watching as Jimmy lost another game.  
  
“What do you want?” Johnny asked, gesturing dramatically. “A ‘Have You Seen This Invisible Little Girl’ poster? A picture on a milk carton with a dotted line in the shape of her head?”  
  
“I guess not. It just feels wrong to take her away from…”  
  
“Away from her happy home among the cattails? I think some part of your moral compass is broken, Edgar.”  
  
“Coming from you, I’m not sure if that should worry me or not.”  
  
“Shiiiiit,” Jimmy hissed from the floor, “this kid is almost as good at this as you are, Nny. Few more years, and she’ll just never blink.”

He stood up as much as he was able in the van and dropped into a seat to join the discussion, “So. What’re we doing with her?”  
  
“Keeping her,” Johnny said.  
  
“You keep saying that,” Devi started, “but-“  
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Johnny interrupted. “Let’s find some lunch.”

Edgar suspected this all to be a large show of smoke and mirrors on Johnny’s part meant to distract people from bringing up Safari Sam’s again.  Playing into Johnny’s whims, Edgar didn’t mention it and resigned himself to reading through another old magazine.

"By the way, Edgar," Devi said from the front. "I was the one 'haunting' the toilet."

 

*****

  
  
Tenna pulled into the parking lot of the convenience store and parked by the entrance, but no one got out of the van.   
  
“This is a bad idea,” Devi said as she stared through the windshield. “You know everything in there is made of corn, right?”  
  
“Then we’re getting her some vegetables,” Johnny told her. He turned to Stephanie and rested a hand on her head. “Just go grab whatever looks good, okay?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Something was wrong but thrilling about watching a small girl innocently steal from a store that didn’t know it was being stolen from rather than possessed or enchanted.  
  
“That was always my favorite reaction,” Jimmy said dreamily when an old woman flailed wildly, curled all her fingers and lost her balance when she witnessed a few boxes of pink cupcakes drift by her knees.  
  
“You miss it?” Johnny asked him.  
  
“I was never really into it when you guys wanted to pay for shit,” Jimmy answered, shaking his head. “Seemed so fucking backwards.”  
  
Johnny went back to gazing fondly out the window. “It was a worthy trade, I think.”  
  
Stephanie and the possessed cupcakes left the building with no effort once everyone else inside was occupied with helping the delirious cupcake-halucinating woman.. Johnny opened the van door and pulled Stephanie inside.  

"Okay, Ten," he said. "Let's go before people start seeing the van or something."

Tenna silently complied, although somewhat reluctantly.

"I can't even fucking believe this," Edgar said.  
  
“What was that?” Johnny asked, ripping open the box of cupcakes.   
  
“Nothing,” Edgar answered, sighing. Johnny continued tearing at the packaging on the neon pink puff balls.  
  
“Don’t smash them!” Stephanie squeaked.   
  
“Do _you_ want to do it?” Johnny asked threateningly.   
  
“Yes!” she said, grabbing the corner of the box. Johnny blinked, surprised, but let her take the box. She gripped it, motionless for a moment as though she expected continued reaction from Johnny. He crossed his arms and stared at her.  She seemed to take this as approval and started in on the box.  
  
The group sat in silence, watching her tear at the plastic wrap, and finally pulling out a cupcake that was only slightly marred by the process.   
  
“Here,” she said, thrusting the cupcake in Johnny’s direction. “You do it like that.”  
  
Johnny stared at the cupcake, and then at the girl with the box in her lap. An amused smile crossed his face before he laughed loudly at her.   
  
“Okay,” he said moments later, still with a trace of a laugh, “you win.”  
  
Stephanie spent the next fifteen minutes carefully passing out cupcakes to everyone in the van, even Tenna, who couldn’t explain that she needed to drive, so held the offending snack by gripping the wrapper between her teeth.

Edgar tried to discuss Johnny’s scary brain-collapsing woman when he had a moment.  Johnny didn’t look interested, yet again. When Edgar pushed the issue, Johnny stuffed a cupcake in his mouth and took so long to chew that he could change the subject when he was done with it.

When this failed multiple times, Edgar resigned himself to wondering if he’d have mail when he got home.

Edgar sat in the back of the van next to Johnny, reading some mindless magazine in hopes of ignoring Jimmy trying to teach Stephanie to swear in German. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about possibly endangering the poor girl, maybe even taking her from parents who had been invisible themselves and just lost her in the woods. He wished there was some kind of support group for invisible people, some kind of place to go to make sure no one had gone missing.   
  
Stephanie seemed too well-behaved for someone to just abandon her, and too intelligent to have been raised by hobos or wolves or whatever else had been along that stretch of highway where’d she’d been sleeping. The more Edgar pondered it, the more he didn’t like it.   
  
And on the subject of things he didn't like, he was done hearing Jimmy say the same foul words over and over.   
  
“Jimmy, stop it, she doesn’t need to know that stuff,” Edgar said. “Send her back here, okay?”  
  
“Going to teach her about Bigfoot marrying the Loch Ness Monster?” Jimmy asked, eyeing the magazine in Edgar’s hands. Edgar really hadn’t even been paying attention to the content of what he was reading and felt a little stupid.  
  
“I think Dib is in this one,” Johnny said, shoving another tabloid in Edgar’s face and effectively ignoring Jimmy. “Check it out.”  
  
“I think he’s the only person I can recognize by his hair alone,” Edgar marveled at the pictures. The person in the photos was most definitely Dib, pointing emphatically at something in his garage, but the pictures looked questionably authentic. Edgar looked back up at Jimmy, who was sneaking glances into his dictionary and whispering things to Stephanie.   
  
“Jimmy, really, come on.”   
  
“Fine, fine,” Jimmy said with a huff, “have it your way.”

He patted Stephanie on her back and steered her toward the back, “Get going, Kleine.”  
  
“Oh, good,” Devi said from the front, “nicknames. Just what we need.”

Jimmy put his hands on his hips, crossed his eyes and mouthed "Oh, good, nicknames," with an outrageous amont of body language.  
  
Stephanie climbed onto the seat between Johnny and Edgar and leaned over Edgar’s lap to look at the magazine with him.   
  
“What is it?” she asked, eyeing one picture in particular.  
  
“It’s… It’s probably a stick or something, or a little floating rig sorta thing, maybe,” Edgar said, squinting at the photo.  
  
“It’s the Loch Ness Monster,” Johnny said without looking up from his magazine.  
  
“Monster?” Stephanie asked, eyes wide.   
  
“Mmhmm,” Johnny nodded. “Lives in a... lake thing. Might be a dinosaur. Might eat little kids.”  
  
“Wow. Can we go see it?”  
  
“Man, kid, you had some awesome not-parents,” Johnny smirked.  
  
Edgar winced at the mention of ‘parents.’ “You’re sure you don’t have any, Stephanie?” he asked.  
  
“Any what?” she replied, trying to turn the pages in the tabloid. “Monsters?”  
  
“Parents.”  
  
She looked at him curiously, and then brought her attention back to the page in front of her.  
  
“I want to meet the Lock Monster,” she said.  
  
“Hey, Tenna!” Johnny called to the front. “How do you feel about getting a submarine?”   
  
“Shut up, Johnny, or we’re heading straight for that telephone pole.”  


The group decided on an early night, and after they discovered that the nearest motel that would remove televisions from their rooms was several hours away, they called the van bed that evening.

Stephanie took one of the seats, since she fit reasonably comfortably into them, and Jimmy crashed on the floor.  Devi and Tenna swapped driving (Devi, of course, only when the road was completely straight for miles) while complaining that the new trailer they’d attached to the back of the van to hold instruments and other junk impaired maneuverability.

Edgar got to keep his usual spot with Johnny in the far back. Johnny was pretending to be asleep on top of him, and Edgar was debating letting on that he knew.

“It’s fine,” Johnny said into Edgar’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Go to bed.”

*****

“This is the best way any of us can think of, Edgar, so unless you come up with a better idea in an hour and a half, she’s going with us.”   
  
Tenna finished applying another layer of black around Stephanie’s eyes and stepped back to survey the damage. Edgar had come in to try to tell her it was a bad idea to let Johnny drag her on stage, but the others had all approved it and there was no convincing anyone otherwise. Jimmy wouldn’t even pretend to disagree in exchange for money or food.  
  
Edgar didn’t know why he felt it was a bad idea. Maybe it was on the same level as using Stephanie to steal cupcakes? He felt like she was being used as a tool for something, even though he saw the logic in getting her seen by putting her in front of hundreds of people and having her wail into a microphone. Something didn’t sit right about it all for Edgar, but if Johnny wanted to do something, there were few powers on Earth that would stop him.  
  
For a moment, Edgar wanted to look up when the planets would align next.  
  
Tenna finished the make-up on Stephanie, hoisted her out of her chair, and set her on the floor. The girl instantly tore off to the other side of the room calling for Johnny. Edgar hadn’t expected Johnny’s strange people magnet to work on members of the population under ten years old.  
  
“Nny, Nny! Aunt Tenna made me a BAMSHEE!” Stephanie shrieked, flailing her arms at Johnny. “Those’re even better than Princesses!”  
  
“Oh, really? Did she tell you _why_ banshees are better?” Johnny had been sitting in silence until then and didn’t look up from the notebook in his lap when Stephanie spoke to him.  
  
“I can tell people to _die_ ,” Stephanie whispered, trying to hide a giant grin.  
  
“Absolutely.” Johnny shot a grin at Tenna, who gave him a thumbs-up. Edgar shook his head, but had to admit that the girl looked sort of cute as a demon.

Edgar tried to ask about what was going to happen if the woman with the ankh was there that night, but Johnny wasn’t inclined to talk about it and brushed him off in favor of dragging Stephanie outside to practice her scream.  


*****

  
  
Stephanie served her role as the Homicides’ personal banshee rather well. The shriek she let loose into the auditorium obviously startled even Johnny, who’d been holding her up to the microphone.

The audience made a collective wincing sound, and then those who’d suddenly seen a little girl appear actually forgot that she’d foretold the death of their eardrums and ‘aww’d and cheered at the stage. She waved happily at them with sleeves that were too long and then looked at Johnny, a very serious expression on her face.  
  
“Nny, how many do you think are gonna die?” she asked earnestly.

Johnny grinned in surprise. “You mean you didn’t get them all?” he mock-scolded. “You’re going to need to try harder next time, Banshee.”  
  
Edgar and the others found themselves both charmed and disturbed by how easily Johnny took to using the girl for strange purposes.  
  
Show after show, Johnny took delight in having Stephanie, who he now called Banshee regardless of whether she was in costume, scream incoherently into a microphone. Edgar stopped seeing it as using her for something, and started rationalizing it as showing her a good time until she was eventually seen by someone who would recognize her and take her home.

Stephanie viewed everyone in the group as her friends, and tacked an ‘Uncle’ or ‘Aunt’ onto everyone but Johnny and Edgar, though Jimmy’s title was sometimes questionably in German. Edgar didn’t know why he didn’t get a fancy title, but didn’t question it. He was sure it made sense in Stephanie’s head, so it was fine with him. Johnny had probably outright told her that he would, under no circumstances, be anything but ‘Nny’.  
  
Edgar was surprised that Stephanie had grown on everyone so easily. They developed nicknames for her within a week or two; even Devi, who had originally said that it was a sign of getting too attached. It had actually been Devi that first called Stephanie by just the last syllable of her name, though it was only to mock Johnny.  
  
“We should call you ‘Nie,’ too,” Devi had told the girl in the middle of a long game of ‘Not Talking.’ Johnny had been seated behind them and remained silent in response to Devi's suggestion, but did his best to project ‘not amused’ to the front of the van.  
  
“YOU LOSE!” Stephanie had shouted, jumping up on her seat.  
  
“Yes, you’re definitely ‘Little Nie’. Perhaps ‘New Nie’, even.” Devi looked at Stephanie, but her tone was definitely poking fun at Johnny.  
  
Stephanie bounced in her seat a little. “Oooh, we have the same name!”   
  
It had caught on with the others since then, whenever they felt like they needed to get back at Johnny for an occasional spasm or freak out. Johnny had objected whole-heartedly to being ‘Old Nny’ or ‘Big Nny.’   
  
“She’s the new one, guys. She gets the modifier. She’s ‘Imitation’ if anything,” he’d said.  
  
“And ‘Banshee’ is better?” was usually the response.  
  
“Yeah, she _likes_ that.”   
  
“How cute.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“Hey, watch it.”  
  
“Oh, come on. She can say that in two languages now.”  
  
This was true, to an extent. Jimmy was no where near fluent in German, but he taught whatever sick version of the language he’d convinced himself that he knew to Stephanie, who he called ‘Kleine’ or “Mädchen” most often. He read stories to her in German and she mimed simple dialog at him, often sprinkled with random swearing when she didn’t know a word. Even Jimmy was starting to realize that teaching her those first had been a mistake, since she now used them as substitutes for the German versions of ‘um’ and ‘uh.’  
  
Tenna began teaching Stephanie the parts of vehicles and got her used to sitting in the driver’s seat. When questioned, Tenna simply said someone else would have to ‘fucking learn to drive around here’. She didn’t seem to be thinking about the girl not sticking around long enough to grow to even reach the pedals.

Tenna also tried to make sure she got milk occasionally, citing it as important developmentally, but it was usually in addition to coffee. This practice was quickly put to a halt when Stephanie's hysterical energy resulted in Tenna nearly putting her head through the windshield. Devi was then left in charge of actually getting Stephanie some food that wouldn’t kill her or keep everyone else awake until seven in the morning the night before a show.  
  
Devi played the ‘Not Talking’ game for quite a while before she warmed up to the idea of Stephanie actually spending time with her. Stephanie picked up on staying subdued around Devi and Devi started trying to get her to draw and told her stories of women warriors in history and tales of people who had died doing stupid things. After some time, Stephanie developed a taste for herbal tea, Chinese take-out, and eating with chopsticks.  
  
Johnny stole shirts and other random things from Edgar to give Stephanie some kind of wardrobe and customized things for her the way he used to decorate his own clothes. She sported Edgar’s address on her shirt-dress one day and ‘Give Me Things’ on another. Edgar had vetoed ‘FUCK’ in hieroglyphs, even though Stephanie was already well aware of the word and it bothered her about as much as any pronoun might.   
  
Beyond stealing shirts, Johnny also roped the girl into doing questionable things for his amusement. Stephanie saw it all as a giant game, and didn’t mind in the slightest until the time she had been told to ask Edgar why people were so unpleasant. Johnny had run some blue drink mix through her hair and even had her stagger around in his boots. Edgar was not amused, and his reaction ensured that Stephanie was wary of agreeing to go along with anything that started with “Hey, go tell Edgar…” ever again.  
  
Edgar wasn’t sure what he did for the poor girl. His attempt at doing her some good by leaving her to the police certainly hadn’t done well, and now Johnny’s banshee solution was proving more effective than the police ever would have been. It wasn’t until he noticed Stephanie’s habit of sitting near him and staring expectantly when he held a book or a magazine that he realized he could have been doing something for her.   
  
“Do you want to look at this?” Edgar asked her one day.   
  
“Yes.” Her fingers twitched. A side effect, Edgar guessed, of Devi’s training a child to not act like one, was that Stephanie had suppressed her grabbing urge.  
  
“All right, here,” Edgar said, handing her the newest tabloid from the stack. “Have a fresh one.”  
  
“Is the Lock Monster in there?”  
  
“There’s a good chance.”  
  
“Okay, good.”  
  
Edgar sat and watched Stephanie regard page after page very slowly, nodding thoughtfully at each page turn. His fear that she had parents who were sick and worried for her returned.  
  
“Stephanie, can you read?” He tried to sound cheerful, casual, and calm.  
  
“Uh-huh. Some of these words are too big, though.”  
  
“Did you go to school?” Edgar asked, trying not to sound alarmed.  
  
“No,” she answered casually.   
  
_Oh god_ , Edgar thought, _home schooling_. “Who taught you?”  
  
Stephanie shrugged. “No one. I just know.”  
  
“You learned yourself?”  
  
“No!” she squeaked, exasperated. “I just know!”  
  
“Edgar, are you making Banshee angry?” Johnny strolled to the back of the van carrying a giant soft pretzel. He offered a piece to Stephanie, who took it happily, though even as she chewed her face still showed the frustration of answering Edgar.  
  
“Nny, she knows how to read.”  
  
“Yeah, she looks old enough to,” Johnny said, taking a bite of the pretzel. “What’s the big deal?”  
  
“Someone had to teach her how.”  
  
“Really? Who taught _you_?” Johnny gestured toward him with a pretzel arm and dripped some mustard on the stack of magazines between them. Edgar was silent for a few moments as he watched Stephanie turn the pages about BatBoy.  
  
“No one,” he answered quietly.  
  
“You get it now? She’s just like us. No parents, no family, no anything. She just is.”  
  
“Is she reincarnated, too? Think we knew her once and she got sent back too young?”  
  
“I don’t remember her. I think I would have remembered someone this weird.”  
  
“How long do you think she was out there?” Edgar asked, still watching as Stephanie scrutinized the grainy photos.   
  
“Why don’t you ask _her_?” Johnny nodded toward Stephanie.  
  
“Stephanie, can I ask you something?” Edgar touched the girl’s shoulder.  
  
“I don’t know, I just do.”  
  
“No, no, sweetie, not that. I wanted to ask you about when we found you.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Edgar sighed. He felt relieved that she’d had no parents that were panicking without their daughter, but now felt guilty about his relief that she’d been out to defend for herself. “When we found you, you were sleeping on the side of the road, remember?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“How long were you out there?”  
  
“Just a little while.”  
  
“How little is little?” Edgar asked. Stephanie measured a short distance between her thumb and index finger.

“No, no,” Edgar shook his head. “I mean, how much is ‘a little while’?”  
  
“Just a little while,” Stephanie repeated.   
  
“Months? Weeks?”  
  
“Noooo,” she answered, shaking her head. “Like a whole show! Just for a show.”  
  
“Shows we've done with her are like an hour and a bit,” Johnny pointed out.   
  
“An _hour_? Hour and a half? Stephanie, are you sure?” Edgar pressed.  
  
“Yeah, jus’ an hour.”  
  
Edgar made a frustrated noise “She’s just repeating what you’re saying, Nny.”   
  
“Would this kid lie to you?” Johnny motioned toward her with the tabloid he’d picked up.   
  
“I think she’s confused,” Edgar said.  
  
“Even if she is,” Johnny said, leaning over to give Stephanie the rest of his pretzel, “and she’s saying ‘a whole show’ like ‘how long it takes to get ready’, she was only there a few hours before we picked her up.”  
  
“'Only'? So, what, someone dropped her there for us to find?” Edgar raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Edgar, I can’t even fathom how you don’t assume shit like this is happening anymore. I came back from the dead after injuring the Anti-Christ’s boyfriend, you’re getting stalker letters, there’s a woman out there somewhere who makes my brain implode and you’re trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for some little girl popping out of nowhere?”  
  
“I can’t help it,” Edgar replied. “I have this vague optimistic hope that supernatural stuff will stop fucking with us.”  
  
“Heh, good luck with that. I think by our very nature, we - and her, now that I’m thinking about it - are going to be involved with supernatural for the rest of our lives.”  
  
“Great, great. Eighty-something years of thinking Nessie is Pepito’s dog and that she’s going to rain children on me at random.” Edgar slumped into the seat and adjusted his glasses.  
  
“Eighty?” Johnny blinked, staring at the floor.  
  
“Yeeees? That sound wrong to you or something?" Edgar leaned forward and tried to read Johnny's expression. "You of all people should have figured out that we’re not immortal.”  
  
“That’s not it,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “I’m just… not planning on going that long.”  
  
“Nny, really.”  
  
“I’ll take you with me this time.”  
  
For some reason, that made everything fine with Edgar for the moment. “Okay,” he said, nodding, “see that you do.”

Johnny smirked at him. “Oh, I promise,” he said, leaning against Edgar’s shoulder. “You won’t even know what hit you.”   
  
“Nny.”  
  
Johnny laughed at him, but said no more. When Edgar tried to say something else, Johnny shushed him, saying that Stephanie was trying to read.   
  
She’d found an article about banshees.  
  


*****

 

On a night when a scummy motel was again an option, the group felt wary of staying. As the van made its way through the rows and rows of vacancy signs, Edgar and his friends made up excuses as to why each one was a bad idea. Too skeevy, too dark, too expensive, too shady, too family-oriented, too close to a goth club. Motels had become something of a phobia among the five of them, particularly motel rooms with televisions and basements.

However, when Tenna, while driving, had actually turned around in her seat, let go of the wheel and threw her hands in the air to properly tell Johnny off, a unanimous decision to find somewhere to sleep that was not the van was made. Dying in the van was unappealing enough to risk another motel. Tenna had pulled into the very next parking lot.

The fear of tentacle monsters aside, the problem of who would take Stephanie in their room now arose. Tenna, Devi, Edgar and Jimmy now stood around the van, arguing about who really wanted to do what in their rooms that would not allow a child to be present.

“I drive all the goddamned day,” Tenna said, still livid from her outburst at Johnny. She didn’t bother to apologize to Stephanie for the language she used, though everyone paused their bickering and waited for her to.

“And I’m staying with Tenna,” Devi chimed in. “So she’s not staying with me either.”

“I vote Jimmy,” Edgar said, raising his hand.

“Because she really needs to learn more foul German in her sleep.” Devi crossed her arms.

“I’ll corrupt her,” Jimmy threatened. The others shot him disgusted expressions.

“That’s not so bad,” Edgar offered, though he still looked ill.

“Edgar, you are a sorry liar,” Tenna crossed her arms. “You just wanna-” She stopped when Edgar’s expression increased both in levels of ‘ill’ and ‘watch it.’

Meanwhile, somewhere a few feet below the bickering, stood the source of it. She wasn’t particularly happy to be the point of so much negative interest.

“I can stay in the van,” Stephanie offered between the accusations flying over her head.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Tenna screeched at her. She snapped her mouth shut almost the very second the last word left her lips, but Devi finished for her.

“You want to get stolen and eaten, kid?” Devi asked, as sweetly as she could manage.

“Not really.”

“Then just wait until we figure this out.”

“But-!”

“Just _wait!_ ”

And then, Johnny drifted out of the van as though he’d only just noticed that everyone else had left it. Clearly, he’d not heard a word of what had been shouted in the last few minutes.

“Are we getting some rooms or not?” he asked.

“Johnny,” Devi tried calmly, “this isn’t-”

“Whatever. Argue for a while if that suits you, I'm going in." He tugged on Edgar's elbow as he headed toward the hotel door. "Someone just remember to get another room for Banshee.”

A collective blink of realization later, and the argument was gone.

*****

There was no television in their room.

Edgar and Johnny both made audible sounds of relief when they swung the door open.

“Never thought I’d be upset to see a fucking TV,” Johnny muttered as he began to investigate the features of the room.

“It’s a justifiable phobia if people know the story behind it,” Edgar said, tossing a few books on the nearest surface.

“The fucking crazy story. Hey, we got an extra bottle of hotel soap!”

“Oh good, we can add it to the collection. Throw it in my bag later.”

Johnny strolled around the room, ruling things unfit for use or consumption by what seemed to be an entirely arbitrary system. The cups in the bathroom were no good, and they needed new towels and pillow cases immediately. Edgar wasn’t sure what was wrong with the pillow cases other than the retina-scarring prehistoric pattern on them, but he let Johnny bother the service ladies with it anyway.

When everything Johnny found objectionable was adjusted to a tolerable level, he and Edgar took to seeing what in the room could be toyed with, stolen, hidden or otherwise used to confuse or frighten the cleaning ladies. Johnny blacked out the eyes of the people on the tacky painting on the far wall with a marker, and Edgar took everything in the bathroom that he and Johnny wouldn’t use -spare towels and brochures mostly - and tossed it all in the refrigerator.

Johnny, satisfied with his more obvious damage, dropped onto the bed and set about drawing a kind of intricate circle across a spread of the phonebook he'd pulled out of the beside table, taking care to put the tiniest of flourishes on it.

“What are you doing to the phonebook?” Edgar sat down in front of Johnny, watching him making his excited marks.

“It’s either to summon Pepito,” Johnny tapped his lip with the end of the pen, “or to sacrifice children to him. I’m not sure yet.”

“Oh god, speaking of children…”

“Is this about Banshee again?" Johnny asked irritably. "You guys seem to think this kid is incapable of sentient thought. Just let it go. I’m sure she’s not being eaten by housekeeping.”

“I’m not worried about her, I – Well, no, I am worried about her, but not at this very second.” Edgar scratched at something above his eyebrow. “Just, how long do we do this before someone comes to get her? Or even sees her and-?”

Johnny smiled and surveyed his handiwork. “See, that’s where I’m figuring the Mystic Phonebook Portal to Pepito is going to come in handy.”

“You can’t sacrifice her! She’d never fit on the pages an- God, I’m starting to sound like you.”

Johnny looked satisfied and laughed quietly. “Sounds like an improvement to me.”

“Really. We can’t keep her around here. I can’t even believe I’m the one saying this! I mean, I thought you’d be the one with the problem if anyone did.”

“I don’t want to keep her here forever and ever, that’s just how it’s going to be for a while. It’s minor.” He shrugged and continued his satan circles.

Edgar crossed his arms, and continued observation on the demon circle, “Children don’t strike me as ‘minor,’ actually.”

“I'll spare you mockery for that terrible pun and you'll forgive me if my interests lie more in the area of my brain not imploding.”

“Nny, you haven’t seen her at a single show! Not even felt anything!”

“But I did at the Sam’s place.”

Edgar let his posture fall and got comfortable. This would likely be a while. “I thought that was the…” he trailed off and glanced nervously at the spot on the wall where a television had to have spent years until tonight.

“No, it wasn’t the wall thing,” Johnny continued drawing in the phonebook, though his lines looked more like a hopeless distraction now than the fun they had been a few minutes ago.

“So you lied to us?”

“No. It was a situation _like_ the wall. And since no one’s afraid of her bu- since you all remember the wall, it was just easier.”

Edgar sighed, sinking into the old stiff cushions. “So what did she want?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“She’s affecting _your_ brain, you have a keen sense of when she shows up, and you have fits when she’s within a certain proximity, from what I’ve seen.”

Johnny set the pen down at his side and stared into the circle he’d drawn as though it was prompting his answer, “She played the song at us.”

“So she’s a creepy fan.”

“It’s not quite like that, I don’t think.”

With that, Johnny drifted into talking nonsense to himself, which Edgar listened to first with amusement and then with the expectation that this was helping Johnny sort out some kind of thought process. When Johnny started repeating things in violent circles, however, Edgar reached across his lap and took the phonebook. Johnny jumped as though he’d been jabbed in the ribs.

“I think you’ve had enough Satan for today,” Edgar said, sliding the phonebook back into the drawer it had come from.

Johnny’s gaze followed all of Edgar’s movements. “I think she was trying to talk to us.”

“To _you_.”

“… _can’t forget what you’ve forgotten_.  She’s talking to us.”

“That’s one lyric, Nny, seriously. And even if she’s delivering magical song messages, what about the rest of the lyrics?”

“It all fits too.”

“Because you want it to.”

“Because _she_ wanted it to.”

“Look, you’re going to keep thinking about this stuff and just drive yourself cra-Um.” He paused awkwardly and tried to give Johnny a sheepish smile.

“Ha,” Johnny looked oddly pleased.

“It just sort of came out.”

“I don’t mind.”

Had this been any other conversation, one that operated under normal conditions, Edgar would have made a joke there. Instead, he tried to keep things sensible. “You really think she’s sending you song messages?”

Johnny stared at the wall behind Edgar, his gaze falling somewhere over Edgar’s left shoulder.

“ _If_ _a plane were to fall from the sky…_ ” He didn’t sing, or even speak rhythmically, but his fingers twitched to the rhythm the words should have had.

“Hey, come on. The end of times is not here because this woman showed up in our lawn, really,” Edgar reached out to do something – shake Johnny’s shoulder, take his hand, wave his hand around in front of Johnny’s eyes – but Johnny wasn’t paying enough attention to respond. The twitchy rhythm continued, and leaked slightly into Johnny’s speech.

“… _how big a hole would it make in the surface of the Earth?_ ”

“Nny, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s fine.”

“This actually is really ‘not fine’ for me. You’re coming up with outrageously improbable shit about some creepy lady who once made your brain feel weird.”

Johnny frowned. “The key point there being, ‘ _made my brain feel weird_.’”

“ _You_ make _my_ brain feel weird," Edgar said earnestly, "and _I_ ’m doing okay! I’m not spouting circular madness about a woman with soul-eating songs!”

“A song,” Johnny blinked, a sudden look of curiosity crossing his face. “I wonder what her song is like. I wonder if I can find her with it.”

“That… is not where this was supposed to go, actually.” 

“We can talk about _your_ stalker, if you want.”

“Not really.”

“I think I’m surprised,” Johnny laughed.

“I’m sort of worried she’s the same person as soul-eating-music-woman. That would be my luck.”

“I didn’t feel anything while you got all your mystical mail.”

Edgar felt remarkably better about the entire situation with that one line, even if it came with a little guilt. “It’s a strange thing to suggest, but I wonder if you just shouldn’t talk to this woman if we run into her again.”

“Is this an attempt to get me to tell you that seeing your stalker is a good idea?”

“Nooo, I don’t think so. Though, now that you mention it, that would have been a great tactic. Still. Talking to her couldn’t hurt.”

“No, actually, it can hurt like fuck and make me spout madness and buzzing if I even _look_ at her.”

Edgar tried to catch eye contact, but Johnny wasn’t interested.

“Maybe we can get you used to her gradually?” Edgar offered.

“Like a reverse twelve step program, great.”

“You’re just talking in circles about all this! What the hell am I supposed to suggest?”

“Probably checking on Banshee.”

“What?”

“Maybe the hotel ate her.”

Edgar sighed, taking the hint. “Okay. I’ll go look in on her, I guess. Can you be okay when I get back?”

Johnny smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Either way I answer that question doesn’t really bode well for you.”

“Suppose so. I’ll be back.”

He closed the door behind him and walked a few doors down the hall to the room where Banshee was staying.

There was a television in Stephanie’s room. Edgar felt unsettled by it, even if the picture on the screen was a bad old animated show with gratuitous amounts of pink and flash.

“Hi,” Stephanie said when Edgar entered. Her gaze was fixated on the television.

“Hi there. I just came to make sure you were okay in here.” Edgar sat near her on the bed and tried not to look at the television.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t mind being alone in here?”

“Everyone keeps coming in to see me anyway, it’s okay.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Jimmy talked all the way through the show and then watched the commercials.”

Edgar had to resist the urge to wince when he heard Stephanie tack the endearing ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ titles onto the others. He thought they were sort of cute, but also thought they were awfully familiar for people that Stephanie would have to leave soon. He was still holding out hope that someone was going to see her and recognize her. Even if that never happened, he wondered why no one had taken her from them yet – she wasn’t exactly being given stellar role models and surely a social worker had seen them by now. 

Maybe the magazine that had claimed Devi was pregnant was now citing Stephanie as proof. The idea made his skin feel like crawling off.

“You don’t have a problem with all of this?” Edgar asked after some delay.

“It’s a nice room.”

“No, no, I mean, with this van and Homicides thing, with all of us.”

“I like it. You guys are fun.”

Edgar wanted her to have some problem, some concern, some insecurity, some anything. Something he could use as leverage to get the others to play enthusiastically in front of the police and have Stephanie taken to some kind of safety. He didn’t know what he was worried would befall her, but he felt sure that their filthy van was not the place for her. He could only hope that whoever they were able to take her to in the end didn’t know any German.

And then something he hadn’t considered before struck him.

“Stephanie, do you know anyone named Pepito?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hell, do you know anyone at all?”

“I know you, and Nny, and-”

“I mean other than us.”

“Not really.”

“And no Pepito?”

“Nuh-uh. Who is he?”

Edgar sighed. He mentally yelled at himself for even bringing it up, since now he had to explain to a small girl that he and his friends knew Satan.

“He’s… he’s some guy we know. He’s not a very nice person.”

Stephanie sighed and looked annoyed.

“He’s the son of Satan,” Johnny’s voice corrected from the doorway. Stephanie brightened up immediately. Edgar hoped it was in response to Johnny’s voice and not in response to ‘Satan.’

“Satan?”

“Yeah,” Johnny wove his way into the room and joined Edgar and Stephanie on the bed.  The mattress made no shift at all when he sat down. “Satan is the guy in charge of Hell.”

Stephanie nodded, her expression trying to look understanding but doing a terrible job of masking that she was totally lost.

Edgar laughed, hoping to steer things away from Hell, “Maybe we don’t all come standard with intimate knowledge of the system.”

Johnny seemed to register something just then, and stared intently at Stephanie, who responded with a nervous smile. It did not surprise Edgar when Johnny didn’t bother to clarify what he’d been interested in after staring at the girl for several seconds, or that he snapped out of whatever it was and acted as though it hadn’t happened moments later.

“Maybe we can give you a crash course in mythology before we toss you into an audience someday,” Johnny said.

With a small squeak, Stephanie went wide-eyed and looked a little afraid to argue. Edgar patted her head.

“He’s joking,” Edgar said as he sent a half-hearted glare at Johnny.

“You don’t know that,” Johnny said defiantly. His arrogant smile was a welcome change from ‘dazed and under the influence of Satan’s phonebook’.

“He’s right,” Edgar told Stephanie with mock-sadness, “I really don’t. You’ll have to be careful.”

“He’s bigger than me!” Stephanie protested. “That’s not fair!”

Edgar gave a dramatic resigned shrug. “Of course it isn’t, it’s Johnny. Also, you’re the only one smaller than he is; I think he’s planning on taking advantage of it.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Johnny said,  arms folded across his chest.

“Oh, God!” Edgar flailed his arms wildly. “The plan has been compromised! Cyanide for everyone!”

Stephanie’s expression showed she understood very little of Edgar’s fake outburst, but really, Edgar hadn’t been doing it for her benefit.

Johnny laughed, curling his toes a little, and whatever had been worrying him earlier seemed to dissolve. Stephanie still looked distressed. Johnny leaned closer to her as though preparing to tell her a secret.

“You know,” he said, grinning, “if Satan had you, you’d be in far more danger. We might throw you to an audience, but he’d throw you to his three-headed dog.”

“Three heads?” Stephanie sounded both afraid and fascinated.

“You’re mixing mythologies, Nny.”

“Hey, have _you_ been to Hell?” Johnny glared up at Edgar.

“Carry on, Mr. Hades,” Edgar said, holding up his hands.

Johnny proceeded to blend nearly every underworld myth Edgar had ever read, and some he’d never heard of. Cerberus factored into the descent of Inanna, who somehow knew Isis, who married Osiris, whose skin tone was possibly diluted over the years and became Pepito’s, whose father had inherited the title of Satan from his father and his father and all the way back to original who, from what Edgar could untangle, had some kind of fling with Baal that got him voted off the island in the first place.

Hell was simultaneously burning hot and frozen solid, desolate and full of a bustling city, arid and pleasant, ugly and tantalizingly beautiful. Its people were all damned and saved, trapped and liberated, stupid and enlightened, solid and only as tangible as fog.

Stephanie followed all of it with rapt attention, often appearing as though just one more fantastical element would push her over the edge and cause her to explode. Though not quite ready to lose his mind from excitement, Edgar enjoyed the story. Granted, his attention may have been more with the person telling the story than the mangled myth itself.

What Johnny hadn’t intended to be a bedtime story ended up draining the girl of all her energy and somewhere around an argument between Pluto, Izanagi and Loki, Stephanie yawned too obviously to be ignored.  Johnny truncated the story suddenly (“Rocks fall, everyone dies.”), and told Stephanie she’d have to find some books to sort out the mess he’d woven for her.

She gave him a determined but tired nod and he and Edgar left her to almost certain nightmares.

Johnny’s mood had improved greatly from the impromptu story.  He returned to the room and flopped onto the bed with a satisfied smile.

“I think I’m impressed,” Edgar told him, leaning against the doorframe.

Johnny gave him a confident smile. “Of course you are.”

“I didn’t know you knew all those.”

“I didn’t know _you_ knew any at all.”

“I was lost in a few places, so I’m not sure how much was creative liberties and how much was really there, but I followed.”

“I think Milton’s Satan was into his fellow fallen angels,” Johnny said, defending his story.

“And he’s different from current Satan how, exactly?”

“Ha, point.”

“Think she’ll sleep with all that in her head now?” Edgar shifted his weight against the frame.

“I like to think it doesn’t matter because we’re not in the same room with her. This isn’t like when we gave her coffee in the van that one time.”

“How much of it was true?”

“All of it’s true to somebody, just not in the order I arranged it.”

Edgar left the door frame to sit on the corner of the bed. “I mean, how much of that stuff did you see?”

“It all happened a couple thousand years ago, Edgar.”

“So?”

Johnny gave Edgar a look that Edgar couldn’t completely place, but it looked like a cross between proud and intrigued.

“I guess one of my ideas about death was that you just know things when you die,” Edgar continued when Johnny didn’t speak. “You know the whole history of everything once you’re dead, and it all happens at once. Time doesn’t really work anymore.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t know?”

Johnny spoke with his eyes closed, “I’m glad to have a reasonable idea as to who the fuck I am, actually. I wasn’t paying attention to the universe Big-Banging while I was wondering why I was in some guy’s bed.”  
  
“Makes sense, I guess. I think I was hoping that we’d have some mystical new information when you came back. It’s something everyone wonders about. Having someone who went and remembers it, but can’t answer questions about it… I want to say it’s hard, but maybe that’s not quite the word.”

“Woe is you.”

“Yeah, it sure is rough having you alive instead of down there paying attention to the world happening at once. I don’t even know how I cope.” Edgar smiled, even if Johnny wasn’t going to see it.

“Life is so hard.”

“Speaking of that,” Edgar turned toward Johnny, hoping the shift in weight on the bed would get Johnny’s attention. “About not living to eighty…”

“Mmhmm.” Still with eyes closed.

“Are you planning on just willing yourself into non-existence, or…?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I hope that you take my feelings into consideration.”

“I already told you I’m taking you with me.”

“Yeah,” Edgar stared at a patch of the carpet. The outdated old colors blurred into a shade of reddish grey. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’d rather something else?”

“I’d rather not die,” Edgar winced at something in those words, but he wasn’t sure what, “but if I have to, I’d rather it be after I accomplish something.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re popular enough to have a stalker.”

“After I accomplish more, then. Everything I’m supposed to. We can’t do the Homicides thing when we’re old. We just can’t.”

“Hence the not living that long.”

Edgar felt a little dismayed and poked at Johnny's arm. “This can’t be all you want to do.”

“You can’t see things the way everyone else does.”

“I’m sure I could handle everyone else. It’s you I’ll never totally figure out.”

“That’s what keeps it interesting.”

Edgar wanted to make some sort of questionable comment about ‘interesting’ but Johnny sat up abruptly just as Edgar opened his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Johnny looked around the room frantically before pressing his ear to the wall behind him.

“Oh,” he let out a breath, “it’s Banshee’s TV.”

“Jeez, I thought something was actually wrong.”

“So did I.”

Edgar went to listen through the wall as well, and heard a faint crackle of commercials in a language he couldn’t understand. He knew it wasn’t German by now, but that was as much as he could determine.

“Why is her TV even on?” Edgar thought aloud. “We put her to bed.”

Johnny shrugged. “Probably can’t sleep. It happens.”

A voice happily endorsing yet another product that no one needs hummed through the wall and was cut off, abruptly, by a strong electronic noise.

“Stephanie’s song?” Edgar offered. He felt himself straining to hear so much he thought he might push his ear through the drywall.

“No, that’s still the TV. You can’t hear that buzz over it?”

“Not really, no.”

_“Moshi dekiru nara, anata to nigetai_   
_Naraku no hate made mo”_

Johnny frowned as he concentrated on the wall. “Huh.”

“What? What is it?” Edgar often felt like he was the only one who didn’t understand the more obvious intricacies of the universe, and this particular moment was no exception.

“She’s got some crazy Asian channel.”

“You mystically understand this language, too?”

“It’s Japanese.”

“How the hell do-?”

“I just know _what_ it is - I can’t understand a damn thing.”

“It’s probably not subliminal messaging from your brain-melty woman then, right? She’d want you to understand.” Edgar wanted to let go of the wall, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to understand anything, but he had a feeling that the moment he leaned back, Johnny would hear something that would build up later into another event to shatter Tenna’s patience.

Johnny nodded. “That, and I’d feel her if she was just on the other side of some shitty dry wall.”

Edgar cringed. “I think I’m happy I have context for that sentence.”

_“Run away...Doko made mo_   
_Nigete, nigete, nigetai_

_“Run away...Okubyo na so jibun no kako kara”_

The single English words Edgar could understand seemed to jump through the wall. He imagined that the uncomfortable expression he saw on Johnny’s face was mirrored on his own.

“That’s… not very encouraging,” Johnny said, now less enthusiastically attached to the wallpaper than he had been a moment ago.

_“Run away...Honto wa otte, otte, ou no yo_   
_Run away...Atarashii_   
_Ah, honto no watashi o...”_

“Yeeeeaaah,” Edgar pulled back from the wall and watched Johnny continue to look unsettled as he listened. Johnny’s expression moved rapidly between uncomfortable and interested until, Edgar assumed, the song ended.

“You know,” Johnny said, regarding a pillow near his knee, “I’m really starting to hate motels.”

*****

When Devi came in to ask about the noise, Stephanie told her that the television was broken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Fugitive: Run Away’ is from an anime I’ve never seen, Key The Metal Idol. 
> 
> I’d wanted to put this song in SWAN, because it fit beautifully. It fits alarmingly well here, too. Let’s just hope I’m not stoned to death for using Japanese. You can find the lyrics and translation online. They're relevant.


	4. Destroy Everything

Stephanie had been traveling with the group for weeks on end, and had never once complained about the strange conditions she lived in. She expressed to Edgar that she loved T-shirt dresses, and only felt bad that they had been his shirts. She loved reading bad tabloid articles, dressing up to wail about people’s deaths, sneaking snacks, learning broken German, and fake-driving the van. She didn’t eat very well, but she didn’t know that.  
  
After Johnny’s combination myth from and about Hell, Stephanie practically demanded exposure to the origins of all the stories. Edgar was happy to give her something better than tabloids, and picked up mythology books when they passed through towns with used book stores. It wasn’t that the Homicides couldn’t afford a new mythology book, it was just that both Stephanie and Edgar preferred ‘old book smell’. Edgar’s basement often had that smell and he had been surprised to see Stephanie know what he was talking about when he mentioned it one day.

In the course of the same day, Edgar could forget that Stephanie didn’t have all six years of life she appeared to, and later be keenly aware of it. That she had a fondness for old book smell both made him feel comfortable and made him wonder if mildew was a part of the collective unconscious.   
  
Stephanie devoured the books along with her sugary snack food and dry packets of ramen. She read the most classical and typical stories that Edgar could find, and the most obscure deteriorating volumes of myth from tiny islands thousands and thousands of miles away. She never brought the books to Edgar questioning anything about how the gods and goddesses managed the things they did, which sort of disappointed him. Instead, she found connections to the stories and cultures in daily life, down to the predictions on her fortune cookies and the order Edgar put on his shoes.  
  
“You put your left shoe on first,” she said to him one day. She stood warily in front of him, as though afraid she’d catch something from his shoes.

“Um, yes?”  
  
“In other places, the word for left sounds like ‘sinister.’ That’s bad, evil. And unlucky.” Stephanie stared at Edgar’s foot, which was only part of the way into the shoe. “It’s bad in some countries; they make people not use that side. And other places! If you go left in this one place, it-”  
  
“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Edgar said. “It’s just my shoe.”  
  
“Don’t cheat, okay?”  
  
“I-what?”  
  
“Don’t go left, Edgar,” she said, nodding emphatically. “It’s not a good idea.”  
  
“I’ll get right on that.”   
  
“Good. I’ll go tell Nny.”   
  
Edgar felt bad ever putting shoes on after that, especially when Johnny came to him later saying that he wanted to know why Stephanie had just assured him of the security of his relationship. Edgar had been surprised that Stephanie had linked him and Johnny but he still had no idea of what the connection had been between that and his shoes.  
  
He worried that the band would give Stephanie a skewed perspective on relationships, especially coupled with all the mythology she was taking in. She was living with one unattached guy who was lusting after another one who was in a relationship with a third, accompanied by two women who were questionably involved as well. Edgar worried she’d grow up assuming everyone was gay and people just appeared from the sky.  
  
Johnny told him this was a fairly accurate assessment.  
  
“We all can’t be a good influence on her, though,” Edgar persisted.  
  
“Why not? She was fucked up when we got her.”  
  
“I realize that things that cross my mind run totally parallel to yours,” Edgar said, “but let’s pretend you’re normal for a second. Don’t you think she’s going to have some problems later on without parents or anything? Kids turn feral when they’re not hugged and talked to and such.”  
  
“We talk to her.”  
  
“But no one goes near her. And all she has is in this van. She’s going to get lonely.”  
  
“You want to take her to the playground and chat with the other mommies, Edgar?”  
  
“I can’t even believe I was trying to talk about this seriously with you.”  
  
Johnny shifted his weight and sighed. As per usual, he was using Edgar as a full-body pillow stretched across the back seat.

“If you’re worried about it,” Johnny said, “why aren’t you the one hugging her and keeping her company?”  
  
“I don’t think she likes me as much as she likes you.”  
  
“Pfft, that’s everyone. I thought you got over that a long time ago.”  
  
“You’re a horrible person.”  
  
“I love you, too, Edgar.” Johnny replied sarcastically. He shifted his shoulders and made some contented noise which Edgar took to mean he was saying no more and going to sleep. Edgar settled his hands on Johnny's shoulders and stared out the rear window and up at what stars he could see.  There really was no reason he hadn’t done anything more than buy the girl books, he thought. He’d just been thinking someone else would do it, thinking he shouldn’t get too attached because he’d end up being mushy about it. He wondered if it was similar to when he’d fallen for Johnny and had just not wanted to address it until years afterward. Stephanie, he reasoned then, didn’t have years to be lonely and Edgar should do something about it.

  
*****

  
The opportunity arose when Stephanie brought a book to the back to the van. She complained that the words were too big and she didn’t understand anything but that Zeus was a really terrible man and headed left far too often.   
  
“Do you want a different one?” Edgar asked, flipping through the pages of the book she handed to him.  
  
“No, I read all the other ones.”  
  
When Edgar leafed through the pages he found it was less a mythology book and more a psycho-social analysis of the cultures that created said myths. It appeared to be inteneded as a textbook. He wasn’t even sure he could pronounce some of the words.

“This one isn’t all that interesting, really. I think the words are too big for me, too.”  
  
“Do we have any new ones?”  
  
“Not about all this, no.”  
  
Stephanie made an exaggerated pout and climbed onto the seat next to Edgar. She sat staring straight ahead with her arms crossed and her lower lip poking out, perhaps trying to frustrate more books into existence.   
  
“Jimmy has some German books, doesn’t he?” Edgar tried.  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Magazine?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Edgar rested a hand on her head, and her pout disappeared. “Let me know if you need something, okay?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“We can still try to read this,” Edgar said, gesturing at her with the book in his other hand, “but I think you’ll be pretty bored.”  
  
“Skip the boring parts?” Stephanie asked hopefully.  
  
“Sure. Come on,” he said, motioning her for to come closer, “let’s see how much of the book we can skip.” Stephanie moved under Edgar’s arm and cemented herself to his side, excitedly regarding the book in his hand. Edgar was relieved Devi hadn’t taught her to hate human contact or that Johnny hadn’t taught her it would all be fleeting and twisted. Reading a boring book was more than worth it. It was better when Stephanie seemed incredibly interested in even the driest sections of the writing.  
  
Reading books with Edgar was quickly added to Stephanie’s list of daily activities with her strange family. She spent more time in the back with him (and occasionally Johnny) with each passing week, until Edgar found that she spent nearly all her time with him, only breaking to ask Devi for tea or learn a new word from Jimmy. When Edgar’s eyes hurt from reading the tiny words in the textbooks, Stephanie sat with the books herself, squinting purposefully at the walls of paragraphs. She often tried to use what she’d read to best Johnny at random useless knowledge, but he always already knew about the sirens, or the curse of the mummy’s tomb, or crop circles.   
  
One night, after Johnny not only knew what piece of trivia she presented him, but also knew that it was technically wrong, Stephanie swore to Edgar that some day, she’d tell Johnny something he didn’t know. Edgar hugged her and wished her luck.  
  
“I’ve not been able to do it in years, but you might catch up to him.”

*****

“You seem pretty fond of Banshee.”

“I am. It’s sort of like the stalker, you know?  Stephanie really seems to appreciate having me around.”

Johnny shifted against Edgar’s ribs and avoided ramming his elbow into Edgar’s stomach. 

“You make it sound like we neglect you.”

“‘ _We_ ’ here meaning _you_ , right?”

“I don’t.”

“I know you don’t,” Edgar settled an arm across Johnny’s shoulders and stared out the back window. “And the others really don’t either. I feel more a part of this whole mess now that I can hit Jimmy all the time and there’s no real animosity behind it. That seems so incredibly backwards to me, but it’s true.”

“I think everyone feels better when they hit Jimmy.”

“Can you tell me something?”

“Which clichéd response to that would you like?” Johnny wound some of Edgar’s shirt into his fingers. “Just a simple dead-panned ‘something’ or an overly exaggerated ‘I don’t know, CAN I?’”

“I’ll settle for a ‘yes’, actually.”

“God, Edgar. No wonder no one stalks you. You’re so damn traditional,” Johnny sighed in mock-frustration and released Edgar’s shirt. He stretched once and again was actually careful not to hit Edgar rather than just expecting Edgar to avoid it. He made another disappointed noise, but got comfortable and muttered a ‘yes’ into Edgar’s shoulder.

“Why is Jimmy here?” Edgar asked.

“He plays the guitar. Where’ve you been?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“You mean, ‘ _Oh, Johnny, why on Earth are you keeping this creepy guy around you for so long?!_ ’” Johnny made some exaggerated damsel in distress hand gestures which nearly threw him off balance. He recovered well, so Edgar couldn’t even really laugh at him.

“I don’t have any issues with Jimmy, Nny. I think you’re the one who does.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He’s the butt of every joke, he’s like the company punching bag. I know you like him more now, but-”

“But why did I keep him around in the first place?”

“Yeah.”

“You know," Johnny said, "when we found you, we all thought you were really lame.”

“I don’t really see how tha-”

“Oh, come on. This,” Johnny motioned generally to himself and Edgar, “is a big step up from _lame_ , don’t you think?”

“Okay, okay. So, what, we both had potential?”

“That’s a nice way to put it.”

Edgar waited for some explanation. When nothing came for a minute or two he let out a heavy sigh. “Would it kill you to offer some information once and a while?”

“Probably.”

“Nny, please.”

“He ran into me at the school,” Johnny said quickly. “I thought you knew this already.”

“That’s about all I know.”

“He ran into me. I said something to him, since I’d never run into -you know, actually _hit_ \- someone while walking, before. He just started following me after that.”

“And you were okay with that?”

“Of course not. Pay attention.  We just beat him up. He kept coming back. He kept telling me he would be like me someday. It started getting creepier later, in the realm of ‘I will have you someday’ and such, but that wasn’t until we’d already decided to keep him.”

“And why did you?” Edgar took his glasses off and dropped them in the cup holder behind the arm of the seat.

“Because after a while, you realize that you can’t really be picky about companions when they’re the only people who know you’re there.”

“If you’d found me before Jimmy, do you think…?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you kept him around because he was all you had, then.”

“Not quite. I mean, yeah, that was a leading factor. He was just so...,” Johnny poked at Edgar’s collar bone while he thought of a word, “…loyal.”

“Johnny, that’s kind of creepy.”

“You asked.”

“I think I regret it.”

“It only gets creepier.”

Edgar swore he could hear the smile in Johnny’s voice.

“Do I want to hear this?” he asked hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Johnny answered into Edgar’s neck, “because I’m not telling you.”

“That’s really unsettling, but I think I’ll just ignore it.”

“Good choice.”

“I feel bad for him,” Edgar sighed.

“I’m sure he feels your sympathy when he looks in our windows.” Johnny sounded largely unimpressed.

“This is the part where I shove you off.”

“You wouldn’t. I could break something and then I’d have to wail in agony and make you feel really bad about it for a few months.”

“Fuck you.”

“See?” Johnny smiled and seemed quite satisfied with the whole exchange. Johnny’s shoulder blade dug into Edgar’s ribs for a moment as Johnny shifted yet again, “So. Banshee.”

“Oh. Oh, right. What about her?”

“Enjoying babysitting?”

“You’re the one who was so adamant about her staying with us for some mystical magical reasons. Don’t act like I came up with it.”

“You like the attention. From Banshee. From the letter woman.”

“I think you told me once that everyone likes attention.”

“Yes.”

Johnny voice sounded distant, as though he was only answering because some programming reminded him to.

“Is something wrong?”

“Isn’t something always?”

“What is it?”

Johnny said nothing and stared out the window. When Edgar thought it safe to ask again, Johnny had fallen asleep.

*****

Edgar felt a jab in his shoulder several hours later. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, and his neck was certainly not happy about where he'd done it, but he was awake now. 

He was surprised to find Johnny still asleep and that it had been Jimmy poking him.

“ _Jimmy_? What are you-?”

“Shh, jeez," Jimmy whispered, "you’ll wake people up.”

“Sorry,” Edgar said, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong? Was I snoring or something?”

“No. I heard you before. What you said.”

“Hang on, okay?” Edgar attempted to move his shoulder with little success, “This’ll be easier if I can wake him up and-”

“No! Jeez!” Jimmy hissed, “No, let him go. I don’t want him to… I heard you guys talking before. I heard what you said about me.”

“Waaaas it something bad?” Edgar suddenly felt worried that he was pinned in place.

“You feel bad for me.”

“Oh. That. Um.”

“You don’t need to. I guess maybe a lot of other people would think my situation was pathetic or something, but it’s not. I’m not. You don’t have to go around feeling sorry for me.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a negative thing. I thought I’d be helping if I got him to stop mocking you all the time.”

“I don’t mind. He doesn’t hate me; I get to spend a ton of time with him. Even if it’s not quite the kind of time I’d like,” Jimmy motioned to Johnny sleeping against Edgar.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t. I told you, it’s fine.”

Jimmy held out his hand. It took Edgar a moment to realize he was supposed to take it. When he did, Jimmy shook it firmly.

“Thank you, though,” Jimmy said grinning. “It’s not often I feel like any of you guys see me sittin’ here. Funny that it comes from you of all people.”

“I’m not insensitive, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s him,” Jimmy nodded toward Johnny.  “Sorry I woke you up. I was never going to get to you while he was awake, though.”

“It’s no problem.”

Before Edgar could say more, Jimmy stood up and wandered back to his seat.  He reclined in it too quickly and the noise startled Edgar enough to wake Johnny. Johnny sat up abruptly, delirously looking around the van and digging his elbows into Edgar at the same time.

“Wha’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing, ow. Jimmy just did something dumb to his chair. Go back to sleep.”

“The hell’s he doing to the chair this late?” Johnny’s words slurred together slightly and he looked rather disoriented.

“I don’t know. We’ll ask him in the morning. It’s not important.”

Johnny grumbled something about ‘stupid fucking Jimmy’ and cursed a few of the deities Stephanie had been reading about before settling back to sleep.

  
*****

  
When it came time to return home for a desperately wanted break from screaming drunk goths, the group realized they couldn’t keep Stephanie in the van while it was parked outside of Devi’s building. Devi was prepared to argue about why she and Tenna couldn’t take her but wasn’t given the chance.  
  
“I’ll take her with me,” Edgar said as soon as the issue was brought up.   
  
“You gonna just hide her away from everyone for a while, too?” Jimmy joked.   
  
“Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll wait until she dies to have you guys over at all,” Edgar shot in return. He heard Stephanie take a sharp breath and realized that she had no idea that Johnny had died once, and was taking the joke pretty literally.   
  
“No, no,” Edgar said, hand on her shoulder, “not really, it’s okay. I’ll explain later, all right?” Stephanie swallowed once and nodded. She didn’t look convinced.  
  
She also promptly forgot about the entire incident when told she could have her own room in Edgar’s house. Edgar felt a little wary about leaving her the room that still housed the book that had once spied on him, but Johnny wasn’t about to give up claims on his, despite sleeping and keeping a lot of his stuff in Edgar’s anyway.  
  
“I can have _this_?” Stephanie asked after a round of bouncing on the bed.   
  
“Yes, of course.”   
  
“ _The whole thing_?”  
  
“Yes, the whole thing. We’ll keep the books you’ve already read in here, okay?”  
  
Stephanie nodded and ran around the room excitedly, looking at things, but not really seeing any of them. She chattered about how ‘awesomely’ everything was going be, and how she was going to make sure Jimmy never got in, even if he didn’t live there. Edgar worried about what Jimmy could have done to deserve that reaction, but then reasoned that he’d been in close quarters with everyone, couldn’t have done anything skeevy without being seen, and was just, in fact, Jimmy.

Besides, after the late-night handshaking, Edgar found that he increasingly doubted all the horrible things the others said about Jimmy.  
  
Johnny poked his head into the room to see what the yelling was about, “Careful there, Banshee, you’ll kill us all screaming like that.”  
  
“Nny! I have a ROOM!”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
“ _The whole thing_.”  
  
“Well, shit, set up some alarms or something. People might try to move in on you.”   
  
Stephanie’s eyes went wide in horror.

“They’ll _do_ that?!”  
  
“Never know,” Johnny said, looking around. “They might just pop out of the walls.”

Stephanie gasped, and Edgar shoved Johnny out of the room.   
  
“Nny! Don’t tell her stuff like that!”   
  
“Do I need to remind you of the reality of things coming from walls?” Johnny asked, smiling. “Or do we need to turn on channel seven hundred again?”

Edgar shivered. “No, no. But come on. She’s just a little girl.”  
  
“Who wants to be a messenger of death when she grows up.”  
  
“Okay, okay," Edgar sighed. "Still. Go easy, please?”  
  
“Edgar?” Stephanie’s voice echoed into the hall.   
  
“Mm?”   
  
“You’re not really keeping me here till I die, are you?” she asked, her voice quiet. Johnny snorted and disappeared into Edgar’s room.   
  
“No! No, I’m sorry. It was a joke. Kind of a bad one. About something I did before. It’s sort of hard to explain, but-” Johnny came back at that moment wearing the long black Hell-coat.  
  
“I was in charge of Hell once,” he said, leaning in front of Edgar.   
  
“Nny, really, I can-”  
  
“Hey,” Johnny said, turning with a partial bow, “ _trust me_.”  
  
Edgar nodded, and stepped back. He watched Johnny drop to his knees and start gesturing dramatically to accompany his hushed story. Edgar worried about what he’d just permitted until Stephanie’s expression turned from fear to fascination and then excitement. Edgar let himself relax and retreated to his room to wait it out.  
  
Which he regretted later when Stephanie staggered into the room, wearing one of his inexplicably needle-filled old Homicides’ shirts, and screeching ‘BRAINS’. Johnny leaned through the door frame after her, a wide grin on his face.   
  
“We learned about zombies today,” he said, suppressing a laugh.

  
*****

Several days passed, and with Stephanie still otherwise occupied with undead-ing around the house, Edgar was once again left to think about her well-being. Among other things. While going through some overdue unpacking, he went over the ideas he’d been having aloud.

“And maybe she’s some kind of illusion, so it’s not really bad to keep her here. Or she’s some kind of test. Clone from the future?”

Tossed a shirt aside.

“Are you rationalizing again?”  Johnny asked from the far corner of the bed.

“Maybe a little.”

“I think we should ask Pepito.”

“That is your answer to everything.”

“I’m going to sit here and wait for you to suggest something better.”

Edgar sighed, and dropped another shirt into the growing pile of things to be washed.

“Look, for me, this is like asking for things to get messy,” he said, trying to resist the urge to gesture with some rolled up socks. “This is like, ‘Hey, why don’t we let the Anti-Christ know that we can’t figure a little girl out?’ ‘WOW, great idea!’” He made an exaggerated happy face to hopefully emphasize his point.

“Pepito could have sent her, though,” Johnny pointed out, unaffected by the happy display.

“I already asked her about Pepito, like I told you! She doesn’t know him.”

“Which is exactly what I would have said the night I came back to life.”

“He didn’t do that.”

“But it’s still worth it to see. Maybe he told her to say that. Kids lie. Pepito owes me, so he can at least check with the losers upstairs for us.”

Edgar sat down on the bed next the laundry, “What makes you think they’ll tell Pepito anything truthful?”

“They have to live in a balance,” Johnny said, examining a hole in his shirt. “They really can’t afford to lie to him since they live on opposite sides of the same system. The people upstairs actually employ some people from Hell, so.”

“Okay, okay. So we’re thinking there’s some reasoning behind all this, and it’s not random.  We came very close to running Stephanie over because we were supposed to.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow.

“Supposed to find her," Edgar clarified. "Not supposed to run her over.”

“That’s the kind of destiny that fucks you up for life, I’m sure,” Johnny grinned and widened his eyes dramatically. “Your mission in life, Edgar V, is to RUN OVER A SMALL GIRL.”

“I’d hate myself for life, I think.”

“Which I think Pepito would really love. We should go see him.”

“Okay, we’ll go. Let me just… get this laundry going and tell Stephanie not to actually kill herself, I guess.” Edgar hauled the pile of clothes into his arms and shuffled into the hallway. He called through Stephanie’s door that they were going to be leaving for an hour or two (which was met with an affirmative ‘Braaaains’) and made his way downstairs.  At the bottom of the staircase, he felt a pang of hope for a letter. 

There hadn’t been any letters in all that time he’d been gone. No pile on the doorstep, no comically large mail bag, no letter from the post office that he’d gotten a package of them the size of Atlantis.

Edgar had tried not to let it show when they first arrived home, but Johnny had called him on his obvious disappointment. For some reason, though, today felt like a good day. He scuffed his way to the basement and filled the washer rather carelessly, drizzling blue soap across the top of the machine in his haste.

He took the stairs back up the first floor two at a time and hurried to the door. Once there, he tried to open it as casually as possible. When he reached into the mailbox, he felt paper. For a few seconds, he stood there with his hand in the box, feeling the paper, willing the envelope to be a letter or a note and not some ads or a credit card.

With a quick motion, he snapped the envelope out of the box and checked the name.

For him.

That same girly handwriting.

He tore the envelope a little too enthusiastically and almost ripped the paper inside.

_“Edgar-_   
_You have to realize I’ve been trying to get through to you._   
_The girl is adorable. I wasn’t expecting that._   
_I can’t talk with you when he’s there._   
_Please come and talk._   
_Library.”_

 For the length of a double take, he thought the woman’s name was ‘Library.’

“Damn thing doesn’t need to be so cryptic,” he said aloud.  Looking at the sky, it was likely already late enough that the library would have closed, and now he was supposed to be going to see Pepito with Johnny.  No time to work this in.

Pepito lived so close to library. Maybe he’d kick Edgar out again to have brain melting conversations with Johnny, and Edgar could pretend to go visit Dib in the band room.

It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Dib recently except in Bigfoot magazines.

He pocketed the letter and resolved to find a way to the library as soon as he could. Maybe he was dumb, maybe he was being gullible, maybe she was some kind of rapist, but he wanted to know.

The second he landed his foot on the first step, Johnny appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Can we go now?”

Edgar looked around, as though the answer was in the hardwood somewhere.

 “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to seeing how he’s handling the damned without me.”

 

*****

  
 _Ich denke Ich will hier bleiben_.  
  
  
The house was comfortable. The van was comfortable too, but the house was better. There was space, and if Stephanie didn’t want to move for Uncle Jimmy to take his seat back, she didn’t have to. She had her own room.   
  
This didn’t mean she didn’t want to look at the other rooms. Down the hall, in a corner of the tiny second floor that didn’t get much light because Edgar apparently wouldn’t put two light bulbs in a single light fixture, was Johnny’s room. Stephanie snuck in there at night at least twice, because Johnny never slept in it.   
  
He had more books than she did, and everywhere on the floor where piles of CDs, drawings and notebooks. Johnny’s room was bigger, and Stephanie often thought to complain about this, since Johnny got two big rooms and she only got one small one, but caught herself when she realized it would let everyone know she’d been snooping. Once word spread around, Aunt Devi would figure out that Stephanie had snooped through her things too, and the prospect frightened her more than the things she had found when she spent one night last week in Uncle Jimmy’s house.  
  
Edgar’s room was harder to get to than Johnny’s. It was never empty at night, and Stephanie spent her whole day with one or both of its usual occupants. There was no way to explore unless they were both gone.   
  
Which was why Stephanie liked crazy fans, Johnny’s spontaneous field trips, and Pepito.

Though she hadn’t experienced them all from the house yet, she knew how effective they’d been in the van and had been on the lookout for a single instance of any of them since she arrived.  
  
She didn’t know which distraction was keeping them now, but she had a clear shot even if just to look at the pictures on the wall.

The door stuck on a bunch of laundry when Stephanie pushed on it, and she had to squeeze through the opening rather than risk Edgar and Johnny noticing that the clothes had been moved.   
  
No matter how many times Edgar had had her in the room watching TV with him over the last few days, or how long Johnny had spent showing her the plastic babies versus ceramic unicorns, the room still looked as though she’d never seen it before. Johnny had put posters overlapping the closet door, even. She hadn’t seen that before. It didn’t make sense to cover it, even to her. They needed to get clothes, right? Surely the pile on the floor wasn't all thier clothing?  
  
She heard nothing in the closet when she pressed her ear to it, though she didn’t know what sound she expected it to make; closets didn't typically roar or lead to busy hallways. Maybe the door didn’t go anywhere. Or maybe to went to another world. Johnny was the kind of person to keep another world behind a poster. He could do it. She was sure.  
  
It took several minutes to get the ruler she'd found under the bed to dislodge the tape on the poster that was too high for her to reach. She ripped the corner, which she hoped she could fix when she was done, or pretend had always been there, but once the side was free, she could open the other world.  
  
The other world was boring.   
  
It was just a white room. A white box attached to Edgar’s room, but filled with nothing. Bright light came in through windows that showed nothing outside, and the intensity of the light made it hard to look at for too long. Stephanie wanted to ask why the room was there, and why they didn’t use it, and why it was white, but she couldn’t.   
  
They’d know who ripped the poster then.  
  
It was then that she heard a noise that sounded like maybe they already knew. A door slammed, and something shattered.   
  
“I fucking swear, that thing will haunt me the next time I die.”   
  
“Stop, stop, jeez, what the hell happened?”  
  
Stephanie stopped listening then, shut the door to the white room, and hurriedly tried to fix the tape on the corner of the poster. When it looked convincing, she shuffled back across the hall to her room and closed the door behind her.

*****

Something had just changed. It felt similar to when Johnny remembered everything and the house had lurched, but Johnny had a hard time differentiating between the physical sensation of the house nearly throwing up and the feeling of his brain attempting to do the same. Whichever one it was now, he couldn't be certain.  
  
There was something new, but something that shouldn’t have been new at all, sitting in the back of his head. It itched just as much as it felt like nothing. Johnny shook his head and squinted up at Edgar, who was still standing by waiting for an explanation.   
  
“You didn’t feel that?” Johnny asked him.  
  
Edgar shook his head. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“There’s something. It feels like remembering, but not quite.”  
  
“Am I going to regret asking any more about this?”  
  
“Heh, maybe.” Johnny smiled and pressed a spot on the back of his head. “Still. It feels like something woke up.”  
  
“That’s maybe not the best way to have phrased that.”  
  
“You want to crack it open and have a look?” Johnny tilted his head forward and made exaggerated prying motions at the base of his skull.  
  
“I’ll pass, thank you,” Edgar said, making a face. “Still, is this a big deal or…?”  
  
“I’m not sure. It’s like it needs a push or something.” Johnny looked around the room for something that he thought might trigger it, but quickly realized he had no way of knowing if or when an outside stimulus would help. “Maybe it’ll work out later. Fucking hurt at first, though. It had better be something awesome when it finally clicks.”  
  
“I think I’m disappointed that this isn’t an explosion.”  
  
“Yeah, my brains would have looked great against the wallpaper.”  
  
“Maybe next time,” Edgar said, shrugging.   
  
“Maybe Banshee learned to sing and has damned the back of my skull,” Johnny joked.  
  
“Oh, shit, we should probably go make sure she isn’t having brain issues.” Edgar headed up the stairs before Johnny could joke about the issues Banshee already clearly had. Pepito would have to wait, evidently. The thing in his mind pinged again, but he shook it off and followed Edgar. It was at least marginally in Johnny’s interest to see if Banshee had developed a freak brain spasm as well. Maybe they’d compare notes.

  
*****

  
The knock startled her, even though she knew it’d be coming.   
  
“Come in?”  
  
“Hey, we haven’t left, and I don't think we are, and I just wanted to make sure you didn’t…” Edgar trailed off. People did that when talking to Stephanie quite often. She was pretty sure it meant they were going to swear or say something scary. Neither one bothered her, but she pretended she didn’t notice when someone stopped talking and clearly continued in a different way.  
  
“Did any weird shit just happen to your head?” Johnny asked, slipping around Edgar. This was why Stephanie liked Johnny. From Edgar’s reaction, she guessed maybe he wasn’t so fond.   
  
“Do you really have to-?”  
  
“She’s fine, look at her.”  
  
Edgar grumbled something, but said no more about it and turned back to Stephanie. “Sooo, nothing wrong then?”  
  
Stephanie shook her head. “Uh-uh.”  
  
“Just me, huh?” Johnny asked, glancing at the ceiling.   
  
“You aren’t used to that yet?” Edgar asked him.  
  
“What happened?” Stephanie thought she’d make sure they knew she hadn’t overheard anything.  
  
“Oh, just more crazy stuff happening to Nny. Nothing we’re not used to. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“In his head?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Johnny told her, waving his hand. “It’ll likely be just a cool thing I forgot about.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They left soon after, saying something about aliens and centipedes, but Stephanie didn’t understand what. She heard a door open, and Johnny make some mention of the door getting stuck on clothes. Edgar protested that it wasn’t his fault, and then Johnny swore at something. Stephanie tensed. There was no way they’d notice the poster that quick, was there?  
  
Silence.   
  
For several minutes she contemplated living with Aunt Devi. If she crawled out the window now, maybe she’d never get caught.  
  
“I don’t know! It’s just there!” From the hallway.   
  
“We can’t just stare at it!”  
  
“You’re not going into a phantom door! Do you think I’m stupid or something? It’s Pepito tricking you into going back, or it’ll just open into nothing, or it’ll be Bigfoot or something, I don’t know.”  
  
“Edgar, you can’t just ignore it. It’s a fucking door! If it’s bad, we’ll close it, lock the thing and be done with it. Drywall over it or something.”  
  
“You’re the one always saying that things will come out of the walls. Doesn’t a random door look a little too obvious to you? That’s like the thing at the hotel saying, ‘Can Johnny come out and play?’ and you just- No. We’re not opening the door.”  
  
A door? They were upset about the door? Stephanie opened her own door and leaned into the hall.   
  
“Um.”  
  
Edgar jumped when he heard her voice, and nearly lost his grip on Johnny’s arms. “Oh, hi.” Edgar used ‘trying to appear calm and rational around children’ voice. One day Stephanie would tell him she knew about that.   
  
“What’s wrong with the door?” she asked.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Edgar, you big fucking liar,” Johnny growled.   
  
“Nny, please.”  
  
“What’s wrong with the door?” Stephanie repeated.  
  
“It wasn’t there before,” Johnny said before Edgar could talk over him. “Did you know it was there?” Stephanie shrank back into her room slightly and nodded.

“When did you see it?” Johnny took a step forward.  
  
Stephanie bit her tongue and tried to make her voice small. “Before.”  
  
“We have to open it now,” Johnny said, looking back at Edgar, who still had a solid grip on Johnny’s arm. “You can’t even pretend we don’t have to.”  
  
“Yes, I can, and I will.”

Stephanie had never seen Edgar glare before. Johnny glared back at him, and even though she was pretty sure she’d seen it before, it was still scarier.   
  
“You do that.”

With three words, Johnny twisted his way out of Edgar’s hold on his arms. Stephanie had been watching intently, but still didn’t see how he did it. Clearly, Johnny even knew magic.   
  
Johnny disappeared into the room, and Edgar appeared conflicted as he alternately tried to stop Johnny and warn Stephanie to stay where she was. Stephanie was sure she wasn’t going anywhere until she remembered that there was nothing in the room.  
  
“It’s okay,” she said, without thinking, “it’s just white.”  
  
Edgar stopped and stared at her. Johnny leaned out of the room and narrowed an eye. “You’ve been in there?” he asked.  
  
“I’m sorry! I didn’t hurt anything!” Lie.  
  
“See?” Johnny said, turning to Edgar. “Nothing to worry about. If it didn’t eat a little kid,” he flicked his wrist and produced a small knife from seemingly no where, “then it won’t eat me.”   
  
“I’m not sure. This doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.”   
  
Johnny ignored him and vanished into the room again. Edgar looked conflicted again for a moment, and then beckoned Stephanie to come with him. She followed them both into the room, suddenly feeling less upset about the torn poster. Johnny even saw that it had been torn, she noticed. He smiled at the corner when he moved it from the door, and looked back at Stephanie out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing.  
  
“Okay,” he said, when all the posters were clear, “let’s see what we have.”  
  
Stephanie saw the white again, and nothing but. Johnny and Edgar, she guessed, did not.

  
*****

  
It hit him in the stomach, whatever it was. There was no blood, which was kind of unusual, but not unwelcome. He couldn’t find it, didn’t see it. Suspected one of them, but felt better not to look for them. They didn’t need acknowledgement.   
  
_Nothing in the room. Stop looking for it_.   
  
He had a hard time remembering when he’d come into this room, or even what he’d come in for. When he had come in was the larger issue, but he wasn’t even worried about that as much as he could have been. Edgar would still be upstairs, either way.   
  
Smart guy, Edgar was. Sticking around had been a point away from his favor, but on the whole, okay. Johnny felt bad sometimes for not killing him, since Edgar’s house seemed to have been eaten by whatever was eating Johnny’s head. Edgar had said he didn’t mind, but Johnny suspected – no. Knew. _Knew_ that other people valued their things, their little toys and boxes for their shit. Boxes for shit inside a larger box for shit. He knew Edgar had been upset about the loss of everything.   
  
It had taken guts or sheer stupidity to show up on Johnny’s lawn again after being set free once. It had also taken the ability to see the house, and for that reason only, Edgar lived a second time. Johnny told himself that was the reason. Edgar had been kind of okay to talk to, even when he should have been moments from death. Company that wasn’t in his head was nice, at the very least.  
  
Edgar was still there. For some reason. Not too smart, that. For all the brain power that seemed to be awake enough to keep Edgar alive, it seemed to shut off at the most crucial times. Sitting on his couch? Lounging around like he belonged there? He’d let that keep happening after a time, and while the threats of death never disappeared, they had decreased in frequency. Friends that weren’t internal had gotten pretty rare since that whole killing people thing started. Shame. Good.  
  
“I found a coupon for free Freezies, you want it?”  
  
And he stayed there because Johnny let him stay there and he was going to be something since the girl at the bookstore never seemed to get it. Something. Probably deluding himself, probably got this all wrong, probably going to kill him instead. Do something or don’t do something, but one of them had to be done.   
  
“Is it real? The guy last time wouldn’t take it.”  
  
“We won’t be seeing him again, will we?”  
  
“No.”  
  
This was not the same.   
  
“I think it’s real though.”  
  
It kicked him in the back this time.

  
*****

  
Johnny felt thrown back when the room had opened, and his head had hurt for a moment. A lurch, like before, and then nothing. He looked around wildly to be sure he was really where he thought he should have been. The posters, and the TV, and the Edgar with strange little girl, all there. The things in his head were really there now. Beyond itch. Sediment. Settled. Really there.   
  
He hadn’t wanted to remember ‘all the shit’, but was sure what he had remembered just then hadn’t been in that category. As far as he was concerned, and he fancied himself an expert on the matter, what he now had was something quite the opposite of shit.   
  
Edgar seemed to think differently if his distressed expression was any indication.   
  
“You all right?” Johnny asked. His voice felt different.  
  
“I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting…” Edgar looked at the floor and seemed to be in some kind of pain. “What’s in there?” he nodded toward the room, avoiding being questioned again. Johnny pretended not to notice Edgar's question dodging and peered into the room.   
  
“Nothing. Just a shitty old room.” Johnny opened the door wider and stepped back from the opening. Edgar looked inside himself, and sent a curious look at Johnny.   
  
“Shitty old room?” Edgar asked.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Look at the floors in here, they’re rotting or something.”  
  
“They look fine to me. Just a little dirty, but probably nice wood under there.”  
  
Johnny started to say something to Edgar, but remembered something in the same moment and arupted turned to Stephanie.   
  
“Hey, Banshee,” he said, nodding towards the girl, “what does this look like to you?”  
  
“White,” she said. “Bright white.”  
  
“All of it?”  
  
She nodded. “All of it.”

“And it looked like that the last time you were here?”

“Yeah.”  
  
Johnny closed the door, winced when the new memory seemed to be unhappy with that, and reopened the door. It still looked like shit to him. Edgar and Banshee shook their heads - no change for them either.   
  
"We need to get Devi and Jimmy in here," Johnny said, staring into the empty room.  
  
"You know, something about Jimmy in my bedroom is just-"  
  
"There you go with the non-issues again," Johnny interrupted. "There is a door. In our wall. That we're all seeing differently," he motioned between himself, Edgar and Banshee. "We can't not look into this."  
  
"We can't just say, 'It's a reflection of our souls, so obviously hers would be happy and light since she's a little girl, problem solved'?" Edgar looked terribly uncomfortable.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him. "Are we talking about the same kid?"  
  
"Nny, this is just walking right into something stupid, this is dumb."  
  
"I'm going to get Jimmy and Devi."  
  
"Can I come?" Banshee asked quietly.  
  
"Sure, why not. Maybe we'll take a field trip."  
  
"Oooh!" She trailed after Johnny excitedly, the door and Edgar seemingly forgotten entirely. Johnny turned around half-way down the stairs when he heard Edgar wander into the hallway.   
  
"Pick up the damn shirt pile, would you?" Johnny asked with a smirk. "We can't have Devi feeling better about her housekeeping skills."

  
*****

Edgar watched the door close, and stared down the stairs for several minutes. This door stuff was all wrong. It was clearly going to drag them into some kind of loop from Hell like the last little oddity Johnny had wanted to explore. Keys.   
  
Keys had degraded into getting Johnny killed. A door was likely to eat them all and spit them out in yet another lifetime. Maybe it would be like the first one and Edgar would just be torn apart again. Then, he reasoned, he’d just stay there. There was no reason he would need to live so many times. Unless Johnny did too. Then Edgar would be on the lifetime spin cycle for as long as the system would support it.  
  
This nagged at him. Whatever memory Johnny had regained didn’t seem to be having any ill effects on him, but what Edgar had remembered bothered him intensely.   
  
He hadn’t loved Johnny before this life.   
  
It should have made sense. After all, he’d come into existence insisting that Johnny was his best friend and nothing more, dammit. He should have figured that his previous self had felt nothing like what his current self did. But it worried him, on several levels, really, because he couldn’t remember a time in this life when he didn’t feel something he could now identify as adoration at the very least and hopeless devotion at its greatest.  
  
He’d been born, or generated, or made, or whatever they were calling it now, loving Johnny. He’d had no choice in the matter, no reasonably innocent building up of the stuff on his own. It had just been there, always. Just plugged into him. An add-on. A bonus. An upgrade. Plastic accessories. An improvement. Pasted on.  
  
Fake.  
  
He picked up the shirts anyway.

  
*****

  
“Doesn’t Aunt Devi live down there?”

Stephanie trailed behind Johnny, even while trying to keep up. There was a kind of balance to be maintained here - keep up, but don't show that you're struggling to do it.   
  
“Yeah, hang on, we’re taking a detour.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Do you want to walk there yourself?”  
  
“Not really…”  
  
“Then we’re taking a detour.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Everything was dark and cold and it was getting only getting more so. Stephanie really wished someone had made her a coat from some of Edgar’s old stuff, but she never said anything about it. Her collection of aunts and uncles had chosen to keep her with them, and could probably choose to get rid of her just as easily.   
  
Johnny was taking her to a big building that she didn’t like the look of at all. It made her feel small and uncomfortable.  
  
“This is the school,” Johnny said, when they stood in front of the doors.   
  
“I don’t think I like it. It looks dark in there. We don’t have anything to pay the ferryman.”  
  
“You haven’t even been inside, and this is already Hades?” Johnny shook his head as he brought out a ring of keys and rammed one into the lock on the door. “I need to tell Edgar to keep that stuff away from you for a while. We need to rot you properly and give you some pink ponies or something.”  
  
“That’s okay, I like the ferryman.”  
  
“Of course you do.”  
  
Johnny took her down a hallway, past some glowing vending machines and into another dark room. He flicked a few switches, and a room covered in posters lit up in front of them. It was lined with chairs and filing cabinets, there was a huge piano near the front, and the ceiling felt too high.  
  
“I used to live here,” Johnny said, opening another door just to the right of where they'd entered. “Actually, we met Edgar on the floor, right there.” He pointed to spot between the doors.   
  
“Met him?” Stephanie asked. She stared at the spot, trying to imagine Edgar cheerily shaking hands with everyone.  
  
“Yeah, he was all crumpled on the floor, and then he came in sounding all crazy the next day.”

Not shaking hands anymore.  
  
“He wasn’t always there?”

She stared at the place where Edgar had been once. She thought she could make him out in the midst of the yellowing pattern on the tile, younger, confused and missing that spot of hair on his face.   
  
“That’s only ever the case with yourself,” Johnny said.  
  
“What?” Stephanie blinked and Edgar was gone.   
  
“For people like us, the only people who are ever always there,” he unlocked one last door, “are ourselves.”   
  
This last room was tiny and cramped and full of papers, boxes, and chairs that were falling apart. There were pictures taped to every inch of the walls and it all felt a little dusty. In the corner near the door sat a worn out looking old beanbag chair. The room somehow reminded Stephanie of the van, just with flourescent lighting.   
  
“I took all the keys to this place,” Johnny explained, examining a layer of dust on a box beside him. “I didn’t expect them to just leave it, though.”

Stephanie stared at him. “You really lived here?”  
  
“Yeah, we all did, sort of.”  
  
“Where did Uncle Jimmy start existing?”  
  
“I could answer that two ways,” Johnny replied after a moment, “but I think you mean out there, by the ramp into the rest of the school. It’s where I found him. He ran into me.”  
  
“Aunt Devi?”  
  
“Before that. Outside the elementary school.”  
  
“Aunt Tenna?”  
  
“You’d have to ask Devi.”  
  
Johnny took a few things off the walls, took a good look around and then directed Stephanie out of the room. He locked everything up as though he hadn’t really come here for anything but to look.   
  
“We’re not staying? That was it? ” Stephanie asked.  
  
“We’re not quite done. We have to go upstairs.”  
  
More long hallways and doors that were so much bigger than her. Johnny opened even more doors and they climbed stairs filled with rushing air. With cool wind. Hallways full of windows. One more door, and then outside. It was still cold and even darker than before.  
  
“What do you think?” Johnny asked.  
  
“Wow, how high are we?”  
  
“Go look,” Johnny nodded toward the edge, and Stephanie ran to the side and climbed on the ledge. There were houses and lights everywhere. Hills and telephone lines and the sound of planes. Specks of light flickered in the distance, but one nearby house felt funny to her. It had a strange light.   
  
“Pepito lives there,” Johnny said when Stephanie took a breath to ask.   
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Not that Edgar is ever going to let you out of the house, but if someone else does, don’t go there and get eaten, okay?”  
  
“Why is everything trying to eat me?”  
  
“Little kids taste better.”  
  
“Then all those cannibal guys should have eaten their girlfriends earlier?”  
  
Johnny raised an eyebrow at her. “Shit, Banshee, was that Jimmy or the Greeks?”  
  
“Both?”  
  
“Pink ponies. As soon as we get back.”  
  
“Can we pretend I didn’t say anything?”   
  
Johnny laughed into the sky.

“Absolutely.”

  
*****

  
He really was okay.  Smart, mostly, and there.  Still there, though not often enough. 

Not often enough.  Not enough to make him angry, and not enough.

So somewhere in between.

There was something there, something like an interest or a curiosity. Parts of him mocked the rest of him about it until it all threatened to tear itself in two. Or maybe four. The number was so fuzzy lately.

The problem was that Edgar didn’t see. He couldn’t see and there was a struggle in conveying so he would see. He just wouldn’t see and it was so frustrating for Johnny to not be able to make him see. 

Maybe there was nothing to see after all. Someone had said that once.

He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to show, when he thought about it.

  
*****

When Johnny finally moved again he asked Stephanie if she’d seen anything. She recognized Johnny’s tone instantly.

“No,” she shook her head quickly.

“That’s the best part of lying, isn’t it?”

She tensed and wondered if she should look at him.

“Which part?” she asked quietly.

“Knowing when to do it.”

“Oh.”

“I’d appreciate it if you kept that lie up for a while.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s get going. Edgar’s going to think I dumped you in a lake or something if we take too long.”

“Oooh, I could meet Morgan!”

“Good to see you’re on a first name basis with her, Banshee.”

*****

  
Edgar had things reasonably well-ordered by the time Johnny returned with three extra people. Stephanie tore up the stairs ahead of everyone to tell Edgar about her visit to the school. Devi stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, watching him as Stephanie talked excitedly about her small trip, making circles around Edgar ’s legs.   
  
“Aren’t you cute,” Devi said.  
  
“Is this a problem?”  
  
“Nah, I’m just starting to think she likes you more than she likes anyone else.”  
  
Johnny led Devi and Jimmy upstairs and waved them into the room with the offending door. Devi was largely unimpressed.  
  
“So that’s it?” she asked, frowning. “I thought it would at least be covered in blood or spikes or something.”  
  
Jimmy inspected the frame, and the wall around it, and finding nothing, gave the others a shrug. “I don’t know what I was expecting to find,” he explained, “but I thought some sort of time rip at least.”  
  
“So go ahead,” Johnny nodded toward Jimmy and the door. “Open it.”  
  
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Jimmy took the doorknob, ignoring his obvious anticipation of pain. When the door clicked open, Edgar closed his eyes and was greeted with a brief and simultaneously endless stream of odd pleasantries.

He opened his eyes again when he heard Jimmy speak.  
  
“It’s kind of a shit hole, isn’t it? Guess the posters are nice though.”   
  
Devi looked curiously at Jimmy. “Posters? Where the hell are you? It just looks like someone threw paint everywhere.”  
  
Tenna, who Edgar had forgotten about, piped up from behind him, “It’s an apartment or something, looks like. Lived in, but not a paint-covered shit hole.”  
  
Edgar kept waiting for ‘And I remember raping girls to be like Johnny’ or ‘I remember kicking Johnny in the face.’ He had no idea what Tenna would remember, but he thought she’d at least remember Devi. Maybe she’d have a dilemma like his and remember not liking Devi at all.  
  
Or maybe everything was just him being the weird new guy, as always. If no one else felt anything, maybe the memories he'd gained had been faked. On the other side of things, maybe he recalled real things and it only worked on him since it was his bedroom. It had worked on Johnny, too, hadn’t it? Was this just as much Johnny’s room as his own by now? Maybe he could get Johnny to tell him what it was he remembered.   
  
“What do you want to do, Edgar?”   
  
“What?”  
  
“About the door.”  
  
“I… don’t know?”  
  
“I don’t think he’s been with us for the last few minutes, Nny,” Devi said, laughing.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Sorry, I was just thinking,” Edgar answered no one in particular. “No one felt anything weird from opening that?”  
  
“Weird?” Tenna asked. “What’s weird about it? I mean, besides the obvious.”  
  
“I remembered things when we opened it before,” Edgar confessed.

Stephanie left his side then and went to sit on the bed. She looked uncomfortable, but was listening intently.  
  
“I never know what I’m remembering,” Jimmy said as he contemplated the floor, “and what I’m just regurgitating from what Nny told me.”  
  
Edgar looked to Devi and Tenna for a more concrete answer, but they wouldn’t say anything, even when prompted. Devi just kept shaking her head.

“We’re going to get going,” she said instead of answering. “Let us know what you decide to do with it, or if something else happens.”   
  
Johnny nodded as though their silences not only didn’t bother him at all, but he gained valuable information from them, and Devi and Tenna headed down the stairs. Edgar heard the door close, and then Jimmy made some sheepish excuse to leave as well.

Soon, Edgar was standing in the room with a nervous looking little girl and Johnny, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world.  
  
“What just happened?” Edgar asked.   
  
“If I didn’t tell you what I remembered, what makes you think they will?”  
  
“Why don’t you guys remember things?” Stephanie asked from the corner of the bed. She was winding the sheets around her fingers, though she didn’t seem to notice she was doing it. Edgar looked around, trying to find a way to explain without mentioning killing or mania. While he was searching for it, Johnny said something about Vishnu, and Stephanie seemed to understand immediately.   
  
“You remember the life before? Show me, show me!”  
  
Johnny laughed lightly, “I can’t perform it. It doesn’t work that way.”  
  
“I mean show me how!”  
  
“I can’t do that either.”  
  
“You can do anything!”  
  
“You feel free to repeat that as often as you want,” Johnny said, smiling.   
  
“If I keep saying it will it make it true?” Stephanie asked hopefully.   
  
“It will only make it more so,” Edgar told her. “He’ll figure out how to make you remember the dinosaurs given enough time and some unholy force to drive it.”  
  
Johnny hummed a tune that made Edgar roll his eyes, and then spoke the relevant bit aloud. “‘… _with Satan himself by my side_.’”   
  
“Isn’t he dead or something? Or he was the first one?” Stephanie asked. “We only have Pepito, right?”  
  
“Eh, details,” Johnny answered, shrugging.   
  
Edgar spent the rest of the evening talking about Pepito and reincarnation and being effectively distracted from the door and memories in general. Johnny and a strange little girl was an odd combination, but Edgar rather enjoyed it. He was surprised that Johnny took having a girl around most of the time so well. He kept expecting something to collapse.  
  
Over the next few days, Edgar tried to ask Stephanie when she wanted to make her rounds to visit Devi and Jimmy, but she either wouldn’t give a concrete answer or asked Edgar a question directly in response. He’d eventually get wrapped up in the answer and forget to send her off to someone else at all. The group had agreed that she wouldn’t be staying with any one person all the time, and had decided on some marginally weekly cycle. So when Stephanie failed to show up anywhere when the others were expecting to serve their time they began to wonder why they were getting so much freedom.

Devi called once to ask if Stephanie had died too, and mentioned Jimmy discovering new words he wanted to teach to someone who cared.  
  
“She just avoids talking about it,” Edgar explained.   
  
“Edgar, she’s something like six. You can send her wherever the hell you want. It’s not like dealing with Johnny.”  
  
“She feels like more than six. I don’t know. I just don’t want to force her to do things. We’re not her parents or anything.”  
  
“Keep her as much as you want, okay? I’m not trying to bust in on your little parental party, I just thought Nny would be sick of her by now and I’m tired of Jimmy calling me.”   
  
“I’ll talk to- Wait. Jimmy calls _you_ to ask about things _here_?”   
  
Devi sighed. “He’s trying to not be weird and call Nny? I don’t understand it, I just tell him it’s fine and I’m sure he’ll get over it.”  
  
“Tell him that makes him creepier than if he called me,” Johnny’s voice echoed into the receiver and from the other room.

"Johnny, get off the phone," Edgar said.  

At the same moment, Devi shouted, "Mind your own fucking business, Nny!"

Johnny muttered something and then Edgar heard a click. Not satisfied, Edgar walked into the room where Johnny had been listening. 

Johnny held up both hands and waved them wildly in Edgar’s direction. “Not listening!”  
  
Devi hadn’t needed to say much more, but told Edgar to warn her when she was about to be playing baby sitter. She also said something about the police, but Edgar chose to ignore her. He stared at the phone after he hung up, thinking about turning Stephanie over to the police. Logically, someone on a police force somewhere would be able to see her by now, so it would just be a matter of finding that person. The problem really wasn’t lacking anyone to give her to; it was not having a problem with keeping her where she was.   
  
As far as Edgar was concerned, if Stephanie really was planted for them to find, and she wasn’t doing any damage, or hurting anyone, or causing any kind of burden, then she might as well enjoy her stay. The group as a whole made enough money that getting a few extras for a small girl made no noticeable dent in the funds, especially with how thrifty everyone (or maybe just Johnny) had been in making her clothing. They were also supernaturally lucky, and ended up with things they needed as soon as they voiced a desire for them. The way Edgar saw it, Stephanie could happily live with everyone and maybe contribute some weird instrument to the group when she got older. They could always use a triangle.   
  
“So, where’s she going?” Edgar jumped at the sound of Johnny’s voice.   
  
“Going?”  
  
“Who’s got her now?" Johnny asked excitedly. "They going to fight for her?”  
  
“She’s not…”  
  
“Devi’s not-? Oh. _Why_?” The tone on Johnny’s final word dripped with very sudden disapproval.  
  
“She doesn’t want to go anywhere else,” Edgar explained, hoping the excuse would miraculously work on Johnny when it clearly hadn’t on Devi. He expected one of Johnny’s standard all-knowing answers in response. Something Zen.   
  
“So what? She’s fucking, what, six? She’s going where ever we want her to go.”

Not quite the Zen that Edgar had been hoping for.  
  
“She’s not a pet, Nny.”  
  
“Then take your own advice and take her out of the little Edgar-shaped Chihuahua bag for a while!” Johnny nearly spat the words as he gestured dramatically.  
  
“You’re just upset that she’s here all the time.”  
  
“Uh, yeah. That’s pretty much it. Thought that was obvious. I’m willing to play the game when it stays a game and doesn’t become daily life.”

“Nny, this isn’t a _game_ , it’s a little gir-”  
  
“It’s okay, I’ll go see Aunt Devi,” Stephanie said from the top of the stairs. Edgar hadn’t even noticed that the discussion had gotten near the stairs, and felt terrible the moment he heard Stephanie’s voice.  
  
“Oh, no, I didn’t-,” Edgar started.  
  
“Issokay. Are we leaving soon?”  
  
“I…,” Edgar trailed off hopelessly and looked to Johnny for some kind of clarification. Johnny raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.   
  
“Let me, uh, call Devi back, I guess,” Edgar answered, defeated. Stephanie nodded and vanished into the dark on the second floor and Johnny drifted into the kitchen. Edgar marveled at how easily both of them made him feel like a complete shit head and felt some residual concern over what that might mean.  
  
The dial tone reminded him that he now had to crawl back to Devi and tell her he’d angered both Johnny and the girl, and he thought that just calling Jimmy and making sure that everyone knew that he had failed horribly might be in order.

*****

She really hadn’t expected the little girl. This made things a little difficult. She could be easily corrupted if something wasn’t done quickly. It hadn’t taken Edgar long at all to be completely brainwashed, and a little girl was likely already far gone.

In the bushes, once again, watching the occupants of the house.

Johnny was even venomous to a small girl! How could Edgar not see what was happening? Was he so lost already?

This hadn’t started as a rescue mission in addition to a sabotage, but it was feeling more like one every day. Edgar needed someone to get him out of there, and now the girl had to come, too. Johnny was cruel to both of them, yet they both meekly did as he requested.

_“…Destroy everything you touch”_

The band responded to music, and quite well. She’d seen them react in the last place she was able to follow them, and as soon as she could find a way, she’d get reactions from them at home.  Songs had to be the best way to get Edgar out without rousing suspicion. She didn’t know how effective music would be as subliminal messages, but it was worth a shot.

_“What you touch you don't feel  
Do not know what you steal   
Destroy everything you touch today   
Please destroy me this way”_

She watched Edgar in relation to that girl, watched him talk to her and laugh with her. Meanwhile, Johnny had shown interest and then suddenly cut her off. Not a satisfying plaything?  Not as corruptible, as destructible, as Edgar?

How did someone as good as Edgar end up with this monster guy? This was just as unjust as what had happened to her. Just as fucked up, just as wrong, just as badly in need of correction.

_“Destroy everything you touch today  
Destroy me this way   
Anything that may delay you   
Might just save you”_

She debated sneaking in through their windows later that night to plug her music into Edgar’s stereo, but she worried the song would give Johnny ideas and decided against it.

  
*****

  
Stephanie waved to Edgar an hour or so later, and drove off with Devi and Tenna with the promise of some ice cream. Edgar hoped she wasn’t so good at reading people yet that she could recognize a forced smile. When did kids pick up on things like that, anyway?  
  
“So that’s the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.”

 Johnny never missed said things.  
  
“I’ve had faker,” Edgar said, still staring down the road.   
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“What? You don’t know every inner detail? Quick, alert the media!” He didn’t know what was making him so short suddenly, but Edgar made no effort to patch it over.  
  
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Greetings there, Unnecessary Hostility, what the fuck are you doing here?”  
  
“Me?” Edgar finally turned toward Johnny. “ _I’m_ being unnecessarily hostile? You just scared a little girl out of her house!”  
  
“Yeah, I’m terrifying for the under ten set,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not her house.”  
  
“She lives here, just like you do!”  
  
“No. Not like I do – she’s been here like two weeks. What is your thing with her?”  
  
“What’s yours? One day, you’re her best friend, and the next you’re mad that she’s here?”  
  
“You can’t answer my question with another one, Edgar.”  
  
“It’s never stopped you.”   
  
Johnny seemed to actually consider Edgar’s statement before he spoke, “I’m fine with her, she’s easily the most enjoyable small child I’ve ever run into, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with her or be her sole parental thing. Or be one at all.”  
  
“She’s not hurting anything living here, and she’s better off here than at Jimmy’s or with Devi and Tenna. She likes us, she likes the room.” Edgar paused for a few moments. “It’s not like you can’t swear with her around or anything,” he added with a shrug.  
  
“You just looked like you were crossing into that territory.”  
  
“What territory?”  
  
“The ‘let’s be family’ one.”  
  
“It’s not quite-”  
  
“No. But it’s getting there.”  
  
“I guess, maybe it could be seen like that. I’m fond of her, but I’m not looking to just drop everything and buy some parenting magazines, really.”  
  
“Good,” Johnny said, squinting at the road, “because what I said about not living to eighty, I meant.”  
  
“Are we aiming more for fifty or something?” Edgar asked cautiously.  
  
“Not even so old.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Still want to come with me?” Johnny’s voice had a hint of a dare in it.  
  
“I don’t remember saying that I did,” Edgar answered slowly. Johnny’s expression wavered for a moment. “But yes,” Edgar finished. “I do.”  
  
“‘ _If a plane were to fall from the sky_ …’” And again, there wasn’t much singing in Johnny’s words, but Edgar recognized them, and finished them, nonetheless.  
  
“‘… _how big a hole would it make in the surface of the Earth_?’”  
  
“Perhaps Banshee is our plane,” Johnny said, smiling. He was still watching the road, as though he could still see Devi and Tenna driving off, though they were likely at home or even miles away enjoying ice cream.  
  
Edgar hadn’t thought about a crater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Ladytron’s ‘Destroy Everything You Touch’, with repeated snips of The Editors’ ‘Racing Rats’ and a single line from “Confrontation” from Jekyll and Hyde.


	5. Réveille-Toi

The girl sat on Devi’s couch, staring at nothing.

 Devi had very little idea how to entertain a little kid and wished she had bothered to get cable on days when it was her turn to play entertainment director.  
  
“Aunt Devi?”  
  
“Hmm?” Conversation was fine too. The kid was reasonably intelligent after all.  
  
“I don’t think they like me.”  
  
“Edgar and Nny? Are you kidding? Kid, Edgar adores you, really. Probably shouldn’t, but…”

 Devi really had not wanted to be the ‘emotional crutch.’   
  
“But he… he made me leave. Because Nny got angry.”

Stephanie seemed to making some connections as she spoke, and Devi thought she probably didn’t need to explain, but did anyway. Just in case.  
  
“Sweetie, it’s in everyone’s best interests to keep Nny happy, really. And Edgar…” Devi trailed off. She wondered how much was appropriate and hated that she was wondering at all. “Edgar will do a lot for Johnny,” she finished lamely.  
  
“Like die,” the girl replied bitterly.  
  
“Whoa, whoa. You start wishing that we die, and we put you back in that ditch. What the hell is that about?”  
  
“I didn’t mean that!” Stephanie squeaked. “I mean he would, because Nny did.”  
  
“They told you about that?” Devi asked, sitting down beside the frustrated girl.

She never knew what to call the poor thing aside from ‘sweetie’ or ‘kid.’ Getting familiar enough to use her whole name, or use Johnny’s ‘Banshee’ seemed like getting into the super familiar territory, and Devi wasn’t comfortable with the idea in the slightest. ‘Nie’ had been fun for a while when they were mocking Johnny, but now that they were honestly talking about the original, Devi didn’t want to confuse things.  
  
“Yeah, when you left, after the door. Nny told me about Hell before, but I didn’t know he was serious. I don’t think Edgar can tell when he’s serious, too.”  
  
“ _Either_ ,” Devi corrected. “And don’t worry about it. They like you just fine. Nny just… comes first, I guess.”  
  
“Oh.”   
  
The girl had such an expression of clarity on her face that it frightened Devi into wondering if she’d shattered some kind of sweet family ideal. It was definitely best to knock the idea of Edgar and Johnny being any kind of family to her out of her head now, but Devi still flinched at the thought of having done it so un-gently.

“And the hell thing,” Devi gestured at nothing with her paint-stained hands, “you’re okay with that?”

“Sure.”

“And you believe it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it came out of Johnny’s mouth?”

“They don’t lie to me.  And the only time I lied to them- they don’t want me there because I lied to them.”  
  
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ll go back in a few days, don’t worry about it,” Devi told her. “We’ll send you over to Jimmy for some stories or something later, okay?”  
  
“Okay.”

*****

Edgar didn’t seem to understand. Showed up with no meaning at all. 

He’d watched Edgar spend nights walking the block and waving to the neighbor kid because he knew he wasn’t welcome as a permanent feature of the house.  The house was already too full and too empty for that. He could come in gradually, spend more time there, but was never always welcome, never always staying.

It took a toll on him. He could see that, he wasn’t so stupid. It also wasn’t his fault Edgar got his house eaten or vanished or whatever.

Edgar said no one saw him anymore. When he tried to go home, there was nothing, when he tried to phone someone to say he was okay, there was nothing.  He’d found it funny that Edgar had only needed to be threatened with death, and yet here the result was the same.  He was gone.  Might as well have been killed.

Gone from everything and everyone around. 

But not empty, which presented a problem.   
Freezies and sharing headphones.

“I don’t know, do you think ‘headwad’ is really as good as Noodle Boy can get? It seems like a cop-out to me after ‘your supreme fuck-ness’.”  

Offered sensible solutions to things that were already mindless, worthless and largely only to keep his fingers busy when they felt too disgusted with him to… something.

Something.   
He still didn’t see.  He wasn’t looking the right way.

He stayed on the lawn.

“Nny?”

Johnny blinked, looked at the room around him. The kitchen.  Edgar’s kitchen.  Maybe his kitchen, if he stretched things a little.

Edgar leaned into the doorway.

“Why are all the lights off in here?”

“I don’t know.”

Johnny remained still in the center of the floor while Edgar flicked the switch on the wall.

“Oh, good,” he clicked the switch a few times before settling with the lights on, “I was hoping I didn’t have to replace the stupid thing.”

“People can see you again,” Johnny said slowly.

“Um, yes. Are you okay?”

Mostly okay, but a little disoriented. All those little pieces of not-shit he’d wanted so badly to remember when he first set foot on the ground in this life were poking through cracks he thought had been sealed. 

“I’m fine. There’s nothing bad about it yet.”

“I’m not quite happy with the ‘yet’.”

“You’ll have to live with it.”

“Is that so?”

“Unless you’d prefer the alternative.”

Edgar looked uncomfortable and rubbed his arm before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t think I noticed how badly you needed the space.”

Before he retreated to the other room, he turned the light off.

 

******

  
Devi regretted sending her to Jimmy.

She expected to get Stephanie back from Jimmy’s place babbling randomly in German, which would be fine. Annoying, but fine. She’d done that last time, after all. This time, however, a day after she’d been dropped off, she was _screaming_ in it.

“Ich kann es nicht versteh’n!” Jimmy screeched to Devi and Tenna when he arrived with the small wailing girl.

“Jimmy! English, please!”

“Wir haben ein Buch gelesen – und, und, nur ein Buch für die Kindern!” He continued yelling over Stephanie’s screaming in order to be understood, apparently forgetting the language he was using and likely using the one he'd chosen badly.

“JIMMY!”  
  
“I don’t know what happened!” Jimmy blurted when he finally started using English. “She just started freaking out!”   
  
“You know how creepy that sounds, don’t you?!” Tenna shouted.  
  
“That’s disgusting! I’d never do something to a kid!”  
  
Devi elbowed Tenna and Jimmy out of the way and grabbed Stephanie's shoulders. “Both of you stop yelling and help me calm her down!”

 

  
  
Back on Edgar’s porch a record time later, Devi stood with a significantly quieter, but still obviously distressed small girl. Edgar came to the door without Devi even needing to knock.  
  
“What happened?” he asked, looking quickly from Devi to the girl holding her hand. “Is she okay?”  
  
“She seems to have had some kind of freak-out at Jimmy’s,” Devi answered, trying to sound caring and concerned. If she was honest with herself, she just wanted Edgar to take the kid out of her hair and bring her back when she was less obnoxious.  
  
“Jimmy did something to her?”  
  
“I don’t know, okay? I just know I’m going to do despicable things if she stays with me much longer.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Edgar said nervously. “We can- I can take her.”

Devi raised an eyebrow at him, but decided it better not to ask and gave the girl a gentle shove in his direction. She took a step backwards in case Stephanie changed her mind and decided she wanted to stay with Devi after all.  
  
“Good luck with that, Edgar,” Devi said, continuing her walk backwards. “Try not to scar her for life for a second time today?”  
  
“Right.”

While Devi backed away as tactfully slowly as she could stand, and Edgar turned back inside, leading Stephanie inside with him.

*****

The entrance to Edgar’s house felt awfully small suddenly. An upset girl standing beside him and a soon to be equally upset Johnny in some other room crowded Edgar into a very limited amount of breathable space.  
  
“Well, fuck,” he sighed.

Stephanie burst into tears.   
  
“You’re kidding me!” Johnny’s voice echoed from what sounded like the basement.

Edgar listened to pounding footsteps in time with Stephanie’s heaving breaths and part of him twitched to make a song out of it. The rest of him was sure that this was the time to pretend that the girl had been beamed into the house by the same aliens that had just a moment ago stolen his brain.   
  
Johnny was now standing under the archway into the dining room. “Didn’t we just do this?” he asked. There was something of a snarl twitching at his lips.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Edgar said without thinking, “Devi just came back and said she was really upset.”  
  
“She needed to tell you that?” Johnny looked pointedly at the sniffling six year-old at Edgar’s side.   
  
“Something at Jimmy’s really upset her, apparently.”  
  
“Pfft, is that all?" Johnny waved his hand dismissively. "Welcome to the club, Banshee.”   
  
Edgar sighed again, suddenly feeling drained. He knelt down to hug Stephanie in an attempt to calm her down and she latched onto his neck, spouting gibberish or, conceivably, German.   
  
“Sweetie? Stephanie, really,” Edgar said gently among her frantic squeaks. “Sweetie, we need to use that other language you know.”

He heard the wooden flooring creak as Johnny shifted his weight, but saw nothing that looked like a motion to help.   
  
“Kein Vater!” Stephanie shrieked in Edgar’s face.   
  
“Oh, wow, no.” Johnny folded his arms over his chest and drew his shoulders up. Edgar looked up for some clarification but Johnny wasn’t saying any more.   
  
“What, what?” Edgar asked frantically. “Do you know what she said?”  
  
Johnny looked disgusted and clicked his tongue once. “‘No _father_ ,’” he quoted.   
  
“My god, what did Jimmy SAY to her?” Edgar hugged her again before realizing that might complicate the issue. “What do I do with this?”  
  
“You’re the one who said it was doing no harm having her here, don’t look at me.”  
  
“I didn’t know she’d end up with some kind of complex!” Edgar defended, standing and leading Stephanie into the kitchen for some water. “You can’t blame me for it.”  
  
“You were the one saying kids need all that parental developmental shit, Edgar. Shoulda seen it coming.”

Johnny seemed to be following Edgar into the kitchen just for the spectacle of seeing him flustered. Edgar repeatedly had to stop himself from tightening his grip violently on Stephanie’s shoulders in response to Johnny’s total lack of sympathy. He should have been used to it by now, he told himself, but there were some things Edgar just didn’t want to handle, even if they came from Johnny.  
  
Stephanie calmed enough for full understandable sentences once she got a drink and tried to explain herself between deep gasps and chugs of water.  
  
“And we were sitting, and we were reading,” she gasped, “and we're sitting, reading, and he says, he says, he says, ‘ _Marianne’s father_.’”

She looked pointedly at Edgar as though that should have explained everything. Edgar sent a beseeching glance at Johnny who half-heartedly shrugged in response.   
  
“What was wrong with that?” Edgar asked Stephanie as she inhaled another gulp of water.  
  
“It’s not like Zeus!” She shrieked, and flung water onto the floor in her hysteria. “It doesn’t just happen to the gods! It happens to _people_!” Stephanie apparently thought doing anything like Zeus was not only possible, but that everyone around her believed it.  She took several frantic breaths. “People. Down here. _People_.”

She stared at Johnny, her breath still erratic, as though trying to get something out of him.   
  
“Seems we’re not really people, Banshee,” he told her.  
  
“None for you, too,” she murmured.

Edgar didn’t bother worrying about whether this situation warranted correcting another ‘either' and watched her stare at the black space under the refrigerator for several seconds while she caught her breath.  When he thought it was safe to speak again, he began with, “Stephanie, I think-”  
  
“Why are we here?” she asked suddenly.

"What are you t-" Edgar tried, but he was halted by Johnny’s laughter.   
  
“Did she really just say that?” Johnny asked with a delighted smile.  
  
“Nny, you’re not helping.”  
  
“You know what would help, though? We need to find her a preschool to haunt or something. She’ll be off starting her own band with a couple losers she scrapes off the pavement in two years time!”   
  
Edgar found little humor in Johnny’s willingness to identify with Stephanie’s brilliance - to liken her to himself - and be trying to kick her out of the house all at the same time. Johnny’s indirect naming of Edgar and the others as losers also failed to amuse him. Edgar hoped his expression conveyed this, but as the only response from Johnny was a non-committal raised eyebrow he wasn’t sure how effective his disapproving face really was.  
  
When she’d polished off three glasses of water, Edgar suggested that Stephanie try to calm down with a book or a bath or something equally soothing. She declared that she wanted no parts of a book for some time and disappeared upstairs and into the bathroom.   
  
“At least we know she’s good enough not to flood it,” Johnny commented when he heard the lock on the door.  
  
“And what the hell are we supposed to tell her now?” Edgar asked bitterly.   
  
“See, here’s where I get lost,” Johnny said. “How is it that Jimmy fucks up and gives Banshee some kind of epiphany and now we have to deal with it?”  
  
“Because no one else _will_! You should have seen Devi… I thought she was going to break out the duct tape.”  
  
“It’s not an idea I haven’t been toying with,” Johnny said, leaning against the wall.   
  
“What is _wrong_ with you? Can we pretend the ‘I am Johnny, so Earth Logic doesn’t apply to me’ thing doesn’t exist for a second? You were friends with her until she didn’t want to leave.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“I’m going to need more than that.”  
  
“No, that’s pretty much it.”  
  
“She’s not encroaching on your claims or anything, Nny.”  
  
“I’m not jealous of a six-year-old girl, thank you.”  
  
“Are you sure? Because I think it’s just seeping out of you.”  
  
“Quite sure.”  
  
A clock on the wall suddenly sounded much louder than it ever had before.  
  
Minutes of silence later, Edgar heard footsteps across the upstairs accompanied by distressed squeaking. He thought it would be safe to ignore them until he heard some colorful words in English along with what he assumed to be their German counterparts. Even Johnny, who hadn’t changed position or facial expression for a quarter of an hour, leaned in the direction of the noise.  
  
“Do you think that’s therapeutic?” Edgar spoke aloud out of habit, even if he was fairly sure Johnny didn’t care.  
  
“You might want to check on that, actually. She has a mirror in there doesn’t she? Could tear her hand to ribbons if she gets angry enough.” Some familiar scars across Johnny’s fingers reminded Edgar that Johnny spoke from experience, though Edgar was bothered by Johnny’s comparing himself to Stephanie becoming a recurring theme.  
  
Upstairs, with Johnny again following behind him likely only out of curiosity, Edgar put his ear to Stephanie’s door. She was stomping around angrily, and, from what Edgar could hear, throwing things.  
  
“Stephanie?” he called hesitantly through the wood. “Are you okay?”  
  
“YES! It’s fine!”  
  
“Which clearly means it isn’t,” Johnny pointed out.

Edgar had to agree with him.  
  
“Are you sure? Can I come in?”  
  
“NO!”  
  
“No, she’s not sure, or no you-”  
  
“Can you shut up for a half a second, please?” Edgar snapped, interrupting Johnny’s joking tone. Johnny made some tiny noise, but Edgar didn’t focus on what it was. He turned his attention back to the door and trying to calm the angry girl on the other side of it.

“What’s wrong? Can I help?”  
  
She said nothing for a while. Edgar wondered if he should open the door without her permission until she finally answered quietly, “I need some clothes.”  
  
Edgar imagined that his expression mirrored Johnny’s.  
  
“Whaaat’s wrong with your old ones?” Edgar asked cautiously, still pressed against the wooden door.   
  
“They’re small,” Stephanie replied curtly.   
  
“They weren’t this morning,” he offered.  
  
“They are now.”  
  
“Do you just not like them?”  
  
“No. They’re small.”  
  
Edgar sighed. He was going to have to risk sounding weird to figure this all out.

“Stephanie, can you put a towel or something on and let me in? Even if we need bigger clothes, I can’t tell how much bigger until I know what’s wrong.”

There was a shuffling on the other side of the door while Edgar fielded strange looks from Johnny.   
  
“What would you have suggested, Einstein?” Edgar hissed under his breath. Johnny just gave him an amused smile.  
  
The doorknob clicked and the door slowly swung open as though Stephanie had given it only the slightest reluctant push from the other side. Edgar felt a little apprehensive about opening the door, and tried to do it as non-threateningly as possible.

On the inside, significantly taller than she had been before her bath, stood Stephanie in the giant tiger striped towel Tenna had given her for some future trip to the beach. Her hair had gotten longer and she squinted at Edgar with a sour expression on her face.   
  
“O _kay_? I need bigger ones.”  
  
Edgar could only find a few words to say, and the ones he tried to use failed him. “I… what happened? How did this even… work?”

Johnny said nothing, but he was obviously having just as much difficulty taking in what he was seeing.

Stephanie only appeared to be a few years older, but even that much was alarming.  
  
“It just did. Can we get Aunt Devi, please?”  
  
“Um, yes. Yeah, juuuust let me give her a call.”

  
*****

The dress Devi gave her was too big, but it was an improvement over the tiger towel. Stephanie now sat haphazardly clothed, staring -occasionally squinting -out the window in the back of Tenna’s often forgotten green car. Edgar sat beside Devi in the front, alternately concerned about Stephanie and about Devi’s ability to drive.  
  
“Are you sure you’re allowed to do this?" Edgar asked Devi over the song blaring on the radio. "On more than straight lines, even?” He winced as the car whizzed by a stop sign.  
  
“Tenna showed me the ropes,” Devi said casually. “She wouldn’t have let me take this thing if she thought I’d wreck it. Besides, we’re not going very far.”  
  
Devi wasn't underestimating the length of the trip, thankfully. The nearest all-purpose store was just a few miles of cow country away, and sat along a mostly straight stretch of highway that would have been hard to screw up. Devi even managed to park without hitting anything.  
  
Stephanie refused to leave the car until Devi told her she’d never have anything that fit her if she didn’t come in and try something on. She came out then, but still looked angry and bitter. Edgar couldn’t help but feel that he’d done something desperately wrong and that Stephanie was angry at him instead of Johnny or Jimmy.   
  
The store was cheap and the people who shopped there often frightened or disgusted Edgar, but there was nothing wrong with the merchandise. Devi snapped at Stephanie once for locking up and pouting as they strolled through the store and Stephanie returned to normal seemingly instantly, picking out things she liked from every corner of the store.

Several people in the store recognized Edgar and Devi and one woman went so far as to ask her companion why it had taken so long for the news of Devi’s pregnancy to come out when the child was already so old. The companion answered that she was surprised to see that Edgar was not only straight, but apparently the father of the amazing Devi child.  Edgar had to repress his own irritation in addition to steering Devi away from committing crimes against humanity. Thankfully, Stephanie seemed to neither notice nor care.   
  
They gathered in the center of the store in front of the dressing rooms when Stephanie finished her raid of the racks. Edgar and Devi found themselves stuck leaning against shopping carts filled with clothing, watching a small girl try to coordinate outfits. Every few minutes, Stephanie would come out with a new combination and they’d nod in approval or veto something horrible. Between little fashion shows, they tried to sort out the latest in weird happenings.  
  
“So she just sprouted up like that, huh?” Devi asked calmly as she leafed through a home and garden magazine that someone had left on the bench next to her.   
  
“Yeah, she got into the bath like she was when you dropped her off and came out like that.”  
  
“Something in your water?”  
  
“I don’t recall Nny growing at an astronomical rate. Or even me. Could you imagine my face? I think I’d notice turning into some kind of fucked up Chia-Pet.”  
  
“Ew, please, I don’t want to think about it,” Devi said, looking up from the pages about garden gnomes. Her disgusted expression changed quickly into something resembling amused.

“Wow, you know what’s even weirder?” she asked, glancing at Edgar. “Johnny with facial hair.”  
  
“Yeah, he doesn’t get it, and I don’t know why,” Edgar shrugged, only slightly bitter.  
  
“Really? I’m not sure I wanted that confirmed, but that’s interesting. I guess now that I think about it, he never stole any razors when we were younger. Not for his face, anyway.”  
  
“I want to blame it on genetics, but as Stephanie reminded us today, he has no parents to get it from.”  
  
“What the hell is Nny supposed to _be_ , anyway?” Devi asked, straightening the pages of the letters section. “I mean, if he was supposed to look properly reincarnated wouldn’t he look less weird? He’s always looked a little… I don’t even know what that color is. Like he’s Mexican filtered through dirty dish water.”  
  
“That’s lovely, thank you. I’ll be sure to tell him you’ve noticed.”  
  
“It’s a thought. Some native tribes have a tendency to not grow facial hair, you know. Maybe it's that instead.”  
  
“He’d be darker then, though, wouldn’t he?”  
  
About then, Stephanie coughed. She’d been standing in front of them for some time while they discussed Johnny’s skin.   
  
“That’s a keeper, kiddo.” Devi nodded after surveying the outfit, and handed Stephanie a new one from the cart. “Bring out the rest of what you have in there next time, okay?”   
  
“Okay,” Stephanie answered.  
  
“You know,” Devi said thoughtfully as she watched Stephanie drag the clothes on the floor, “whatever Nny is… I think she is too.”  
  
Edgar regarded what of the girl’s skin tone he could see before she closed the door to her dressing room and wondered why he hadn’t seen that earlier.

“You might be right,” he managed to answer.   
  
“Speaking of Nny and not his skin,” Devi set aside the magazine, “what is his stance on this kid stuff?” She nodded toward Stephanie’s dressing room.  
  
Edgar sighed. “He’s either angry at me, fucking with my head, or both.”  
  
“You can come stay with me if it’s both," Devi said sympathetically. "Been there before.”  
  
“Devi, I can’t imagine him ever messing with you on purpose.”   
  
Devi shrugged. “Maybe not now. He toyed with me and Jimmy quite a bit before you showed up.” She made an odd face when she finished the sentence, and looked like she was going to offer a disclaimer, but it never came.   
  
“I thought for such a long time that you two had to have been something before I ran into you,” Edgar said as he studied the ugly carpet below his feet. “You seemed close, and I didn’t understand why nothing had happened, I guess.”  
  
“Ha. Don’t assume it didn’t, Edgar.”  
  
Edgar looked back up, unsure if he'd drawn the wrong conclusion. “Really?”  
  
Devi waved it off. “For all of a few days. Long enough to discuss it, experiment with it and determine there was nothing there.”  
  
“ _Experimenting_? Am I interpreting this the right way?”

Devi smirked at him.

“ _Jeez_ ,” Edgar responded. “How old were you?”  
  
“Oh, fifteen or something.” Devi laughed. “Have I fucked with your head well enough now? Thoughts of me and Johnny grossing you out?”  
  
“Weirdly enough, no,” Edgar replied, running his hand over his neck. “I’m actually sort of relieved. I was worried I’d just muscled in on something between you two. It feels better to know you established it wasn’t going to work.” He paused to cough. “A little unorthodox way to go about it, though.”  
  
“And here I thought I’d smashed some kind of magical virginal fantasy of yours,” Devi said, giving Edgar a sly smile.  
  
“We can never mention ‘virginal’ in a conversation about Johnny ever again if it’s all the same to you.”  
  
“I think I’m sick of clothes,” Stephanie chimed in from the dressing room doorway. “Can we go soon?”   
  
“Just a few more, kiddo,” Devi said, handing over the rest of the stack. “You’ll thank us later, really.”  
  
“Mmerff, fine, fine,” Stephanie mumbled while retreating to the dressing room.   
  
“She’s not so bad, this kid.” Devi smiled at nothing in particular after Stephanie had vanished.  
  
“I’m pretty fond of her,” Edgar agreed.  
  
“Going to kick her out?”   
  
“I can’t do that, that’d be terrible.”  
  
“So you’re going to have Nny angry at you for more than a few hours? Gutsy, Edgar, I’m impressed.”  
  
“It’ll be all right. I’m sure I’ll be able to work something out.”  
  
Devi shook her head, amused, and went back to the magazine beside her. Edgar watched her leaf through the pages, and wondered about ‘before’. Before he showed up, before the keys and before the Pepito thing and the dying. When Devi and Jimmy were all Johnny had.   
  
The ‘experimenting’ made sense in that context, and Johnny _had_ said that Devi was beautiful before, so there was even more. _Rationalizing it makes it better_. He felt a little guilty about having to make it rational at all and for wondering how much Johnny was lying about.

Still…  
  
“Devi?”   
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“If there was no Nny, I mean, if he disappeared in some way that I wasn’t able to reclaim him from, I think you…”  
  
“And if Tenna vanished, then definitely you.”   
  
As awkward as Edgar’s attempt at a sentence had been, there was no awkward left. He and Devi smiled at nothing for a few moments and when Stephanie appeared again, in a black shirt with striped sleeves, they laughed.

*****

If Johnny was upset, or even noticed Edgar and Devi returning with Stephanie and a pile of clothes, he didn’t show it. Edgar kept telling himself it would all be fine, but talking to Devi about Johnny hadn’t put him completely at ease.

Johnny was silent when Devi and Edgar carried the bags of clothes upstairs, and he said nothing to Devi on her way out, though Devi did attempt to engage him by calling him a shithead. Edgar didn’t know what to say to him, but knew the day's events had to mean the same thing to Johnny as it did to Edgar: filling Stephanie’s room with clothes established her more permanently as a feature of the house than just her presence alone.  
  
Edgar stalled as long as he was able, but after going through what clothes went where with Stephanie several times too many, he could feel her growing annoyed with him. He left her room feeling as though the floorboards would explode under the slightest pressure at any moment or that he would be shot out of the air by Johnny wielding an orange plastic gun.  
  
Edgar descended the staircase, finding neither landmines nor a shooting range with an obnoxious hunting dog. Instead, Johnny sat, doing what appeared to be nothing, in the pink chair. Though he certainly didn’t think that he had, Edgar got the feeling he had done something wrong, or at least that Johnny believed that he had. He coughed once, but there was no reaction from the recliner.

He turned to find something to drink in the kitchen - at least he’d have something to do with his hands when he returned to truly try to argue.  
  
“Did you pick up the adoption papers on your way back, too?”  Johnny asked sourly.  
  
Edgar winced, and turned back toward the chair slowly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quietly. His brain conjured ‘ _There’s no one to adopt her from_ ,’ which worried him slightly.  
  
“Speak for yourself.”  
  
Edgar bit his tongue, and thought he would regret his next words, but they had to happen sometime. “Just tell me exactly what the problem is.”  
  
“Oh?” Johnny turned his head to look at Edgar for the first time since he’d returned with Devi. “You want to know what the problem is? Huh.” He stood up and threw something to the floor. “The problem,” Johnny continued, weaving his way around furniture, “is that she is more glued here with every goddamn passing hour.”  
  
“She’s not hurting anything,” Edgar said.  
  
“Not yet, but how long until this gets carried away, huh?”  
  
“‘Carried away’?”   
  
“You’re not seeing any of it.”  
  
“Nny, I’m not a perception machine like you. I can’t predict her every move, so don’t blame me for things she hasn’t even _done_ yet.”  
  
“I can’t believe you don’t see what’s happening here.”  
  
Edgar tried to keep his ton gentle. “I can’t figure out why you won’t just _tell_ me.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have to point out the fucking obvious,” Johnny said through his teeth.  
  
“You’re going to be bitter at me like this until you get your way – whatever that is – aren’t you?”   
  
Johnny didn’t answer, and retreated to the pink chair. Edgar wanted to tear something in half and his fingers twitched, desperate to crush something. He had the motivation and the energy to scream and argue about the girl, but not the heart to. She didn’t need to overhear anymore than she already had.  
  
“Can we ignore where she is for a moment,” Edgar began calmly, “and focus on the growing thing?”  
  
“ _Can_ we?” Johnny shot back.  
  
“ _Please_?”  
  
“Whatever suits you. That’s the theme we’re working with here, after all.”  
  
Edgar clenched his jaw for a moment, but calmed himself and relaxed with some effort. They’d have time to argue about it later. “Do you think something did it to her?” Edgar tried to sound as neutral as possible.  
  
“Oh, growth demons in the bathwater,” Johnny said, unimpressed, “how quaint. Maybe they followed me from Hell.”  
  
“I’m serious.”  
  
“She did it just to spite you and rob you of enjoying her childhood years.”  
  
“Alright, fuck you. I’m done with this,” Edgar said, turning to the stairs. He heard Johnny make some sort of huff, but refused to acknowledge it as he took the steps up two at a time.

At the top of the stairs, Stephanie stared intensely at him, gripping the railing.

“It’s nothing,” Edgar told her, trying to dismiss anything she may have heard.

She nodded and retreated to her room either frightened or unconvinced. Perhaps both.  Edgar felt the atmosphere of the house change.

An attempt to reason with Johnny an hour later was met with the silent treatment and then some wild non sequiturs when Edgar retreated to the kitchen to resist the urge to throw things.

The desire to throw things manifested as the need to clean things, unfortunately. Edgar was resentful of the whole affair, but the idea that his anger transformed into washing dishes was something like the cherry topping on his quickly accumulating stack of injustices. Had he degenerated into some fucked up kind of housewife now? He reminded himself several times while he scrubbed the insides of cups that he’d always cleaned things when he had nothing else to do, even when he lived alone, and that Johnny being difficult had nothing to do with it.

When the sky outside the kitchen window began to darken, Edgar was struck with an idea. It was a little questionable to be using an opportunity like this, but it _was_ an opportunity. Edgar’s stalker letter on the refrigerator was nearly drowned in cursive-y fangirling letters for Johnny and Stephanie’s drawings of Isis, but Edgar's letter stared at him and held his attention as though it were made of gold.

They’d have to start performing again soon. It could be months. The stalker had waited patiently through one little slap dash tour, but would she wait through another? A longer one?

He reached out to take the letter, but soapy hands and realizing that he had no melodramatic cinema audience to appreciate the significance of the action stopped him. 

Still.

He was snapped out of concentrating on the paper when the phone rang. Assuming it was Devi and that Johnny would get it, Edgar shrugged and continued trying to scrub crusty cheese off of some dishes. When the ringing had gone on for well over half a minute, Edgar grew concerned. When the ringing continued on and was then accompanied by Johnny shrieking something incoherent at top volume, Edgar dropped a dish.

Edgar stumbled out of the kitchen, trailing soap and water behind him.

“Johnny? Are you okay?” His heart pounded in his throat as he caught his balance near the stairs.

Johnny glared wildly at Edgar from the recliner, momentarily quiet.  The phone continued ringing.  

Edgar attempted to get close, but Johnny started yelling again and screamed even more incoherently with every step Edgar took. Edgar glanced up the stairs and saw Stephanie perched on the top step, listening with her hands held in preparation for covering her ears.

Still ringing.

Edgar was able to make out Johnny's words, but what they were trying to say was a mystery. “And then it’s all _talking_ to me and the bastard didn’t have the decency to just let me _lie_ there! People deserve things like courtesyandhumannature and all that shit and I don’t _care_ what you say helookedlikeoneand I bet I’m not even sorry! It’s going to – it already ate you anyway!”

Johnny’s loud protests to no one wove in and out of the sound of the telephone. Why hadn’t whoever was on the other end just given up already?

“Nny, come on, you’re not making sense,” Edgar tried. 

“I can’t see anything!” Johnny yelled in response.

“Please, seriously.”

Just then, Johnny snatched the phone next to the chair off of its stand and flung it onto the floor. The receiver clattered on the hardwood and slid until it was a foot or two from Edgar’s toe. The ringing ceased along with the screaming and Johnny remained in the chair, eyes wide and fingers digging into the upholstery.

“It’s just a test,” the voice on the telephone said.

Despite a clearly disturbed Johnny in a recliner, and a worried little girl at the top of the stairs, Edgar felt as though he and the voice were all that mattered, even if just for a minute. He picked the phone up gently, almost as though he thought it would bite him, and held it an inch or so away from his face, wary of letting it touch.

“Who is this?”

There was no response from the voice, but music instead.

Edgar couldn’t understand the words. The tune meandered and cracked through the receiver until it reached a point when the sound became mostly static.  And in all of it, one phrase continually repeated, poking above the cracking and popping.

_“Réveille-toi_

_Réveille-toi”_

Edgar wasn’t surprised that the music was there, but rather was surprised that it was there when he felt it might be. Maybe he had become more used to the Homicides’ world than he thought.

Johnny growled something and Edgar dropped the phone, suddenly remembering that he wasn’t alone with the song.

“Nny, are you-?”

Johnny viciously ripped the phone wire from the wall, the wires tearing, snapping and splitting in his hands. The song that had been reaching through the receiver fell silent, though Edgar thought he still felt it in the room, crawling up the walls.

“It knows where I am,” Johnny hissed through his teeth. He sounded almost as though he was afraid something would hear him.

“Nothing is following you, you’re fine. It was the phone.”

“Well, FUCK YOU!” Johnny screamed to the television, which wasn’t on or even remotely in Edgar’s direction. He still gripped the severed phone wire in his hands.

Edgar managed to get to the chair without starting too much more shrieking, and put a hand on Johnny’s arm. 

Johnny jumped and tore his arm away, his eyes frantic. “Oh, it’s you,” he said suddenly, blinking away his prior look of mania. He relaxed his grip on the frayed wires.

“Of course it’s me. Are you…? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Don’t you have some knitting to do or something?” Johnny pulled his knees to his chest and concentrated on the stacks of paper in front of the fireplace.

Edgar blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, that’s right, I guess she’s too old for that now.”

For all that had just happened, Johnny casually dismissed it all to make stabs at Edgar about Stephanie.  Edgar had words building up in him, piling up in his throat, but he couldn’t force sound out immediately. When they came out, they were a little strangled.

“…you…You’re just making little shows now, is that it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t know what I- I- GOD, when did you get this fucked up?! A little girl breathing the same air as you for a few days drives you insane, now, is that it?  Not dying, not remembering killing your friends, not making deals with the Anti-Christ, but CHILDREN?”

“You’d like to think it’s all about Banshee.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.”

Edgar raised a hand to start pointing dramatically to bolster his impending argument, but with half a word, he lost the drive and let his arm fall to his side. As long as Johnny was still capable of snapping, still able to be coherently angry, Edgar wasn’t entirely concerned. The insane was probably a sleep deprivation thing, and was almost normal.

“Get some sleep or something, Nny. I’ll talk to you when you’re feeling saner.”

On his way to the stairs, Edgar kicked the phone under the couch.

Stephanie, it turned out, didn’t want to be bothered with pleasantries or ‘good night’s, so Edgar spent the remainder of the night with some television.  Not a B-movie, no commercials, no prehistoric and painfully bad cartoons, just television. 

*****

In the morning, things had not improved. 

Johnny had apparently gotten no sleep given the red around his eyes and his manic expression. He also feigned amnesia regarding the entire screaming incident, despite that Edgar had woken up to find all the phones disconnected and scattered on the floors or poorly concealed under random furniture. He had to admit that finding the one from the basement wedged between the refrigerator and the oven surprised him.

Stephanie was still reluctant to talk and Johnny bitterly ignored absolutely all contact, including invitations to eat things or chances to make fun of the people on their block. Edgar didn’t know what kind of improvement he’d been expecting, but he was fairly sure this situation was headed remarkably steadily in the opposite direction of improvement.

In addition to wondering if Johnny’s experience with the door upstairs had done something to his brain, Edgar worried that the thing that had tried to eat them all in the motel really was back to find Johnny and eat him or sacrifice his heart and dance in his skin or whatever other atrocities Stephanie’s latest myth could conjure. Edgar didn’t know what the wall thing was capable of, and hadn’t ever thought of asking. In Edgar’s experience, once Johnny was done talking about it, bringing up the monster in the television (or the wall) again had never even been on the priority list, let alone anywhere near the top.

 Sadly, in all of the crazy mutterings that hovered around the pink chair, ‘wall’ was the only word ever truly distinguishable.  The possibility of it being behind things had to be considered. The only problem being that the Wall wouldn’t be dialing Edgar’s phone number and quaintly playing some haunting French melody at him.

But Edgar’s stalker would. 

With Johnny unwilling to step in to interfere with Edgar’s actions, and Stephanie more than capable of taking care of herself for an hour or so, Edgar was free to visit the woman writing him letters.

He’d been stashing the small stack of notes and claiming spam and credit card ads when asked, but he desperately wanted to know what this woman wanted from him. He knew it was likely a bad idea if she was the same woman that had materialized on their lawn before Johnny died. Johnny went to pieces if she was anywhere within twenty feet of him, but still, if she was the same, she was crying out for Edgar to listen to her. Now that Edgar had taken all these years to get used to being seen, he was growing to enjoy it and there was no reason to pretend he was still invisible to someone who saw him so intensely.

It wasn’t that he was planning anything shifty; he was still entirely devoted to Johnny and found very little in the world able to alter that. Johnny acting disproportionately angry, largely like a complete asshole, and generally selfish as of late didn’t even change it. This was Edgar’s curiosity and only that.

With everyone who could stop him firmly rooted in their own affairs, Edgar headed to the library that evening with no objections or incidents. There was no letter specifically for today, but he assumed that whoever she was, woman who drove Johnny crazy or no, she was going to be there.

Edgar passed Pepito’s house on the way to the library, and part of him thought he should be doing the more responsible thing and asking Pepito about Stephanie.  He had to admit that Johnny was right and that even if Stephanie didn’t know Pepito, there was a chance Pepito knew _her_.

Four cracks in the sidewalk later, he’d rationalized to himself that he should go to Pepito’s with Johnny, and that he really had no reason to detour at all since Johnny was still at home. Was this creative lying for himself? Probably. Did he care?  Surprisingly, not really.

For only a moment, Edgar worried that maybe showing up to see this woman without Pepito, a can of mace, or a baseball bat was a bad idea. But then, taking his usual luck into consideration, it was possible the woman wouldn’t even be there after he'd sufficiently prepared and he’d be stuck alone at the library with only Pepito and some pepper spray for company. He could imagine Tenna laying out a 'plot' for a porno with those elements already.

She was there, sitting alone on the library railing and composing another note to sneak in Edgar’s mailbox. Unless she was some other woman who spent her evenings on the library’s doorstep scribbling notes on coupons, this was the one.  Edgar felt a familiar sort of nervous about her. He wasn’t sure if it was spending so much time with Johnny that made Edgar think he could feel her general aura, or if this woman just strongly projected that she spent so much time being nervous that she’d feel out of sorts if she wasn’t.

She was definitely the same woman who had shown up on his lawn, and the same one who had talked to Johnny just prior to him going a little crazy in the van. This disappointed Edgar and failed to surprise him at the same time. This lack of surprise was starting to become unsettlingly frequent lately.

“Hello?” he ventured. Part of him tensed in preparation to run should she decide to wield the pen in her hand any differently.

The woman startled, and then took in the sight of Edgar very slowly, from the soles of his boots to up over his head somewhere, before settling back down to a place behind his glasses.

“You came,” she said. Edgar couldn’t say for sure if she was looking him in the eye.

“Yes.”

“Is he with you?” she asked, craning her neck in an attempt to see behind Edgar.

“No,” Edgar answered, shaking his head. “It’s just me. If you were a proper stalker you’d know he’s not much for moving at the moment.” He tried a smile, in hopes of appearing friendly and not on the alert.

“That’s good, then,” she muttered. She set aside the pen and note slowly. Her expression belonged in a game of chess, and not in a new social interaction. Edgar found her interesting, but she set him on edge all the same.

“You seem to think there’s something outrageously wrong with my life,” Edgar began, getting right to the point, “so I thought I’d come and assess the damage. See what it was you thought was so awful.”

“God, you poor thing,” the woman said, standing up. The expression remained unchanged – she was still planning her move. “He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

“He hasn’t done anything,” Edgar answered, assuming she still meant Johnny and stepping back. The woman compensated for the distance.

“He’s a madman,” she said.

“Who are you? What were the notes about?”

She gave Edgar a tired smile. “My name is Tess. I was reset in your boyfriend’s house a few lives ago, and I’m not about to see him destroy people again – especially not decent people, because there aren’t enough of those. He’s got you up on strings, Edgar. Like some fucked up puppet-y play thing, and you can’t even see it. No one ever sees it until it’s too late.”

“What? You’re one of those people who want to ‘take me away from all this,’ aren’t you?” He spoke with a trace laugh, but Tess didn’t seem amused.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” she confessed as she adjusted her glasses.

“I’ve noticed, actually, but I think perhaps you’ve missed the boat here entirely. There are no strings or puppets or anything.” Edgar continued trying to maintain a distance without being rude and landing them somewhere at the end of the block from all of his backtracking. This was not the stalker he had hoped for. He was happy Johnny couldn’t see him – Johnny would be so damn smug over being right about the whole thing.

“He’s _insane_ , Edgar!” Tess grabbed Edgar’s coat, and spoke frantically. “He’s lying to you! Playing with you! He’s sucked you into this little game of his and he’s not going to let go!" She shook him with every accusation against Johnny’s character. "You’ve got to DO something! He’s already got all those fans deluded! You’re the only one smart enough to stand a chance of getting out!”

Edgar gripped Tess’ wrists and pulled her hands from his coat with only a minimal increase in heart rate. “I can’t believe that’s what this was all about…” He shook his head in disbelief and gathered the calmest thoughts he could. “There’s no game, please. There, for the most part, are no lies, no nothing. You’ve got this all wrong.”

“You see?” she demanded, pointing between Edgar’s eyes. “This is what he wants you to think, this is what he’s done. He’s making you think that he loves you and that you love him and you need to get out. You _need_ to. And that poor little girl, her too.”

“I don’t _need_ to do _anything_. There is no brainwashing here, honestly. I chased after Johnny on my own. There was some rather awkward courting for a while, but I really wanted to. He’s my best friend. You’ve got this all wrong, please, just listen to me.” Edgar tried to assume some sort of demeanor that he thought would calm her down, though he feared nothing would stop her by now.

“And the girl?”

“Stephanie really likes Johnny. She likes all of us and she seems happy...ish. And really, there’s not a lot in her to corrupt…”

“This is wrong,” Tess muttered, staring at the sidewalk. She held her arms across her chest in a kind of quiet self-hug. Edgar thought she had finally understood and he was glad it hadn’t taken too much fighting.

“You deserve to be treated better,” Tess continued.

Or not.

“I’m not being treated badly,” Edgar explained through some annoyance. “I am incredibly happy where I am right now. Stephanie, too. He's a little angry at the moment, but who doesn't fight a little?”

“You don’t need to lie, he can’t hear you.”

“Oh for crying ou- I’m not lying!”

“What would convince you?”

“It’s not-! Ugh. I guess some kind of signed paper, or a grand confession in front of the whole town that now that he has conquered the coveted ‘lame guy with the glasses’, the world was next, I don’t know.” He shook his head upon hearing his own words and continued before Tess could counter. “But it’s not like that, do you understand? That’s not something you’ll be able to find.”

Tess' tone changed abruptly from panic to reserved calm. “Can we be friends, Edgar?”

He tilted his head at the odd jump in topic, but answered, slowly, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“What? Why?”

“Johnny is not terribly fond of you, for various reasons, and if he-”

“You’re letting him choose your friends?! Okay, I used to know people like this. Hell, I used to _be_ people like this. You’re going to be okay, Edgar, I promise,” Tess patted his shoulder sympathetically and looked around as though the secret to Edgar’s redemption lay just across the street and she needed to make an unnoticed dash for it in the next minute or two.

“I think you’ve gotten this twisted,” Edgar tried, “I really-”

“We’ll be friends, and I’ll help you, and tell you everything I know.”

Edgar stopped protesting long enough to process what Tess was really saying. He took a breath, and realizing he would probably later regret it, made a decision.

“Tess? Do you know anything about some kind of… sick, scary tentacle thing that comes out of walls?”

The possible outcomes here were either that she decided he was bonkers and never contacted him again, or that she knew and he could use her to help stop whatever it was doing to Johnny – okay with him, either way.

Tess looked uncomfortable, but nodded slowly. “I know something like that, yeah. Unfortunately.”

“All right, then. We do this friend thing, you’ll tell me about the wall monster, maybe, and I’ll listen to your hysterical claims about my choice in partners.”

“You want to hear about the wall? Specifically?”

“Yes.”

She paused, watching the sidewalk in thought.

“Okay, but not all at once. And not now. Next time. With lunch or something.”

“Sure.”

He’d have to keep it from Johnny, but Edgar thought that a friendship with this poor misguided woman could lead to something that would eventually help them all, so he was going to commit to it.  She couldn’t be nearly as crazy as she was claiming Johnny was, after all.

*****

When Edgar returned home, the same unwelcoming atmosphere of a shooting range and minefield combo wrapped around him and kept him far from the pink chair in the living room.  He sighed and made his way upstairs where he found Stephanie sitting on the top stair, her chin resting on her knees.

“Was she nice?” Stephanie asked casually.

“You know," Edgar sighed, "I have no idea.”

“You didn’t talk to her?”

“I’ve just admitted that I’ve been to see her, haven’t I?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you get that people radar from him?” Edgar nodded toward the part of the house Johnny had emotionally blockaded.

Stephanie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“He’ll eventually have you lying your way out of everything and he’ll teach you all that weird people reading he does. And then it will be just me who can’t figure out everyone around him and sucks at lying.”

“You’re not too bad at it.”

“Which one?”

“Oh. Uh, both, I guess.”

“Thanks,” he laughed.

“But you did talk to her? Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she crazy?”

“Like I said, I really don’t know. She’s pretty convinced Johnny is a bad idea all around, though.” Edgar sat down on the step beside Stephanie.

“A ‘bad idea’?”

“Or a bad match, or something.”

“He likes you, doesn’t he?”

“This is the assumption I’ve been going on for a while here,” Edgar sighed. “I hope it’s not a wrong assumption.”

“Well, then he’s a good idea," Stephanie said.

“That’s not always the case,” Edgar said, looking at his palms, “but I think it _is_ the case here.”

“You’re not going left are you?”

Edgar sighed and managed an indulgent smile. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Stephanie sounded proud of him..

They sat together for a few moments, basking in the hostile environment they had both grown unfairly accustomed to.

“How long is Nny gonna be mad?” Stephanie asked softly.

“As long as he wants.”

“Oh.”

“Stephanie, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Keep this business with me visiting the letter woman between us, okay?”

Stephanie frowned, but nodded. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He stood up and almost patted her head. When he remembered she was likely too old to enjoy that kind of thing, he stopped. “Sorry,” he said, smiling, “habit.”

“It’s okay.”

*****

She’d been asked to lie for both of them.  Maybe the woman Edgar had seen really was right and Johnny was a bad idea. But then, if that was true, then Edgar was a bad idea too. At least he wasn’t going left.

It wasn’t that Stephanie believed anyone capable of lying was inherently bad – she had done it herself a few times since coming here, after all. It wasn’t always bad, but when it started getting tangled like this and began turning into a game of ‘monkey in the middle’ then episodic drama could develop.  She’d watched dishonest people lose all the time in the stories she read - the dishonest ones and the stupid ones.

At least Edgar and Johnny weren’t stupid.

Stephanie hated stupid characters. These were the ones that were always eating the fruit of the dead or looking over their shoulders and seeing their wives turned into salt, zombies or other kinds of rotting flesh when they’d been warned not to look at all. She’d just been unsure of Orpheus, but after two other poor saps fell victim to the same thing, Stephanie was sure that ancient people didn’t take gods of death as seriously as they claimed they did. Gods of death were powerful and some people just didn’t seem to be grasping that.

Johnny had been in charge of Hell once.  Stephanie wondered if that made him some kind of death god trainee.  At least a demi-god?  Maybe this was why Edgar stuck around when Johnny was angry? Edgar managed to be the love of a god somehow, and he wasn’t giving it up. It almost made sense.

Except they’d met in that school place which was missing its ferryman.

As much as Stephanie hoped for Edgar and Johnny to sort things out, she wasn’t looking forward to when they both found out that the other had lied.  And through her, in addition to that.  Johnny was already angry that she existed, and Edgar had just given him another future reason to.

She sighed and tried to weigh her options for when everything blew up around her – Aunt Devi or Uncle Jimmy? 

She’d really miss her room when the time came.

*****

Tess watched the way he walked, the way he carried himself, and made careful comparisons between Edgar and the people around him as often as she could.  Did Edgar walk as confidently as the man in the business suit? Did he slump as much as the man scraping the sidewalks for change? There was something scientific to be found in this for sure. Tess only regretted that she hadn’t met him in her previous life to compare the many postures of Edgar.

When she explained what she was doing to Edgar on their next meeting he didn’t seem impressed or even receptive, not that she had been expecting him to be either. He told her that the way he walked had no bearing at all on how he was being treated at home. Tess smirked and Edgar warned her not to act like Tenna, who was apparently one of his sort-of bandmates.

“The way you hold yourself has a lot to do with how you feel,” Tess explained over a plate of pita. “And if you’re feeling oppressed or have some kind of issue, it’s going to reflect in your posture.”

“And if my posture is already horrible,” Edgar squashed his bit of the bread into the dip on the center of the plate for emphasis, “then there’s no telling how I’m feeling about myself one way or another. You haven’t been watching me long enough to know if it’s changed dramatically for the worse _or_ for the better.” 

He paused, pita triangle mid-way between the plate and his mouth.

“You… haven’t, have you?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

“No,” she grinned, “but I bet I could make it up pretty convincingly.”

Edgar had listened to everything she had to offer during their second meeting, down to the things that even Tess thought were farfetched. He was polite in all his refutations and in all his insisting that Johnny was doing nothing to harm him.

Tess saw in Edgar a man that the media had targeted as an oddity and that certain Homicides fans continued to label a publicity stunt. Few people looked at Johnny with his dyed hair, blackened nails and generally frightening appearance and believed he was seriously attached to a guy who couldn’t look scary even stitched together and sporting blacked out eyes behind his glasses. Despite Johnny’s small size, there wasn’t a magazine or talk show that hadn’t concluded that he was completely in control of Edgar in several ways.  Edgar largely denied it.

“There’s some level of truth in those,” Edgar said regarding the magazines that Tess had presented as ‘exhibit A’.  He was quick to put disclaimers on his sentences, however. “It’s just not in the way you think. He’s just in charge of most of what goes on with the group of us. It was his idea, and it’s him that keeps all of us together. It just makes _sense_.”

“Yes Edgar, it makes total sense that he keeps you prisoner in your own house.”

Edgar motioned around them with a piece of pita. “Are we not out here without him?”

“Because he’s mad at you.”

“Would you stay with him when he’s angry?”

“Not from past experience, no, but that’s why you’ve got to get out of-”

“Can we stop for today?” Edgar asked wearily.

“Keep in mind, Edgar,” Tess said, rising from her chair to reach the wallet in her pocket, “that I remember him the way he was before.”

“And so do I,” he answered.

As Edgar left the restaurant, Tess wondered how many holes had to be in that memory for him to defend Johnny so persistently. 

She hardly covered the bill with the money she tossed on the table, let alone left enough for the tip.

*****

He only remembered pleasantries. Polite fragments. A frozen drink here, a ‘thank you’ there, a joke at the expense of people not himself or his companion sprinkled on for good measure.  There were cordial visits, and impromptu sleepovers, and afternoons in front of the library shooting rubber bands at the homeless but not a moment remembered without a sense of familiarity laced with propriety.  Everything was enjoyable and they would always ‘do it again sometime’.  Like the family reunions that happen because of a funeral; always nice, like commercials for greeting cards or anti-depressants - cheery people doing stark white laundry in the sun – but sort of guiltily morbid.

Edgar remembered a long, warped tea party.

It didn’t add up. Current Johnny and tea party should never have been on intersecting trains of thought and the Johnny he was remembering even less so. How could a tea party even go on without Johnny smashing at least half of the cups? Those plates could be made deadly with little trouble…

Several minutes went by before Edgar remembered that the tea party his head made him feel had not been literal, and if it had been, he would have remembered dying pleasantly, maybe even politely (‘ _Oh, sorry, I’ve gotten brains on your boot._ ’), in the midst of one.

Tess was wrong about everything. He absolutely knew that for sure.  Sure, she was correct in her accusations regarding the previous incarnation of Johnny, and probably the one before that and perhaps even any beyond that, but nothing of what Tess said applied to the Johnny they currently shared a time line with. As someone who had simply experienced reincarnation, if not a full-fledged victim of it, Tess surely had to know that what you were before is not always what you are now and that you can certainly choose not to let the before damn you. Surely.

Edgar ducked behind a corner, adjusted his posture in a store window, and continued home.

*****

In her room, trying to find something to do on her own, Stephanie had spread out her collection of old things that she had claimed for herself.  It was mostly junk she had snuck out of the basement or found under Edgar’s bed that he said she could have. It was stuff Johnny wouldn’t miss anyway, she'd been told.

A disc she desperately wanted to know the contents of, an old children’s book that Edgar didn’t even know the origin of, a pair of old speakers, a few interestingly shaped cans, and an old electronic toy that was supposed to teach kids to spell spilled onto her floor from the deteriorating and dusty cardboard box she kept them all in.

Nothing in her collection worked properly anymore, if at all, but she didn’t need any of the things she had for their original uses anyway. The objects were more often scientific instruments used to explore alien planets, or offerings to a goddess who was or wasn’t Stephanie herself depending only on how blasphemous she was feeling at the time.

For this particular adventure, she tried to attach the mute speakers to the spelling machine in order to make a bomb that she would later dive in on and disarm at the last possible second. Men often did this on television, and before Johnny had decided to be angry with everything, he’d told Stephanie to do something about the existence of shitty movies with super guys diving in and saving the girl in the skirt. This comment had somehow translated to Stephanie aspiring to becoming better than the men in these movies. From what Stephanie had read, Johnny’s complaints sounded something like feminism. She’d have to read that book again and see if men were allowed to be feminists too.

When she found an appropriate spot, she plugged the speakers in, and they made a kind of popping fizz noise. She jumped, yanking the plug out, but after a moment of making sure nothing had exploded or spontaneously combusted, she tried it again.

The speakers had never made any sound at all before, and Edgar had assured Stephanie that Johnny had blown all the useful bits out of them several years ago during some magical sleep over weekend thing. Despite Edgar’s claim, sound was definitely seeping from the old speakers. 

She fumbled with the plug for the speakers and found the sound only came when the plug was barely inserted into the spelling toy.  When she let it sit for a moment, the static sang to her.

_“Réveille-toi_

_Réveille-toi”_

The song felt eerie, and the tune hung near the floor like heavy fog.

_“Tu as faim, froid,_   
_Tu ne dors pas,_   
_Mais tu y crois,_   
_L'élu c'est toi,_   
_L'amour fait loi,_   
_Sacrifie-toi,_   
_Entre ici et abandonne tout de ta vie_

_Réveille-toi.”_

She recognized French, along with some of the roots of what was being sung, but didn’t understand the words. She desperately wanted to see if Johnny knew French in addition to magic and how to rule Hell. Sadly, he wasn’t speaking to anyone.

The song looped in the broken speakers while she listened closely, quietly wondering whether Edgar should be informed.  Then, she thought, if she could lie for Johnny and lie for Edgar, then she could lie for herself.

It was only fair.

When the plug fell out twenty minutes later, Stephanie couldn’t get the song to come back.  No amount of fiddling with the cords or swearing at the speakers would restore the tune, and she thought, briefly, that the song would return if she only knew the proper curses in French instead of German.

 

*****

“Edgar?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
The house had felt cold and rather hostile for a few days. Stephanie had obviously noticed the change, and spent most of her time in her room to avoid the unease. With few other options, Edgar passed several afternoons in the room with her.  
  
“What’s really wrong with Nny?”  
  
“He’s being childish and cryptic and kind of an asshole.”

Normally, Edgar tried to restrict the language he used around Stephanie, but since she'd absorbed the worst of the rest of the group, his efforts weren’t always whole-hearted.  
  
“It’s me, isn’t it?” Stephanie asked.  
  
“I think it might be related, but you didn’t do anything,” Edgar reassured her. “It was me, if anything.”  
  
“He’s really mad at you.”  
  
“I noticed, actually, thank you.”  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
Edgar sighed and rested the book he’d been looking through on his lap. “Continue going around the day in silence and sleeping alone? I don’t know.”  
  
“I’m making him angrier. What am I supposed to do?”  
  
“You’re not… I guess I can’t say that.” Edgar looked to the ceiling. “It’ll be fine somehow, I’m sure. I know he likes you, he’s just a little upset about a change in living conditions or something.”  
  
“This is a little?”  
  
“Yeah. Or else he developed some sense of being considerate in an incredibly short amount of time and is restraining all the screaming that would mean he was really angry.”  
  
“He gets angry at you a lot?” Stephanie spoke as though she was guiding Edgar through some ancient psychological wisdom. Or perhaps she was sounding like Tess. _Tell me about your non-existent father, Edgar…_  
  
“No, actually. He used to, but that was well before we- Before.”  
  
“You love him? Even when he’s scary and mean?”  
  
“He’s always a little scary,” Edgar said with an amused smile. “But yes, I do. You don’t just stop when someone gets angry.”  
  
“So he’s angry, but he still likes me, right?”   
  
“Yes.”  
  
Stephanie slid off the side of the bed, put her ear to the floor, and relayed to Edgar that Johnny had the television on.   
  
“You don’t need to spy for me, really. Just let him go.”  
  
“Nny was angry about me saying I didn’t have a dad.”  
  
“Not that directly, really.”  
  
“I’m going to be all screwed up because of this, aren’t I?” She stared at the carpet as though she could see Johnny sitting on the couch on the floor below.  
  
“Where’d you hear that?”  
  
“I read it somewhere,” she answered with a shrug. “Uncle Jimmy had a psychology book that was sort of okay. It said children with no parents get all wild and crazy.”  
  
“You’re not feral, Stephanie.”  
  
“I know, I know, but they did lots of studies on kids with only one, or none, or orphans and twins and, and, abused kids. That too.”  
  
Edgar blinked, alarmed. “Abused?”   
  
Stephanie seemed to read him quite well and laughed at his expression. “I don’t think you’re abusing me, don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “Still. How are you and Nny okay?”  
  
Edgar raised an eyebrow.

“In case you missed it,” he said, “we’re all about as not okay as they come. Johnny the most of all, if not Jimmy.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“You don’t?”  
  
“Nny can do anything.”  
  
“I’m not sure doing anything and being okay are mutually exclusive.”   
  
“But I really like him.” Stephanie let out a frustrated sigh. “I like staying with you guys when he isn’t mad at me. He’s fun.”  
  
Edgar echoed the sigh and nodded. “I know. I feel sort of the same way. I wish I could just work out some sort of system that doesn’t leave anyone neglected.”  
  
“Edgar?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Why are you guys keeping me? Shouldn’t I have been left in an orphanage and then been forced to work in a fish market or something?”  
  
He hadn’t thought about why. On purpose, really.  “I think we… just felt sort of connected to you. You were like us, and maybe as a collective we decided you shouldn’t have to do what we all did.”  
  
“But I’m okay now. So why am I still here? Weren’t you going to feed me to the police?”  
  
“Feed?” Edgar asked.  
  
“Wow, is that what I said? I meant ‘give’.”  
  
“We _like_ you.”  
  
“So you’re all my parents. Sort of.” She actively eyed the book in Edgar’s hands, though it had nothing to do with their conversation.  
  
“In a weird way, you could say that.”  
  
“I’d feel better if you were.”  
  
“Were what?”   
  
“If you were my parents. If I could call you that.” She turned a few knickknacks she had gotten on a trip out with Johnny over in her hands.   
  
“I’m not sure the others would want titles other than ‘Aunt’ and ‘Uncle,’ really. And I’m fairly sure Johnny would not be happy either.”  
  
“What about you?” she asked quietly.   
  
“Me? I’m fine with no title, really.” He rubbed a corner of the book in his lap. When he really looked at its plastic coated cover, it appeared to have been stolen from the library.  
  
“Oh. Okay.”

Stephanie sounded so disappointed that Edgar thought he felt himself hurt. This was all going to be a bad idea, and though he thought he was realizing what Johnny had wanted him to see, for some reason, he still kept the issue from dropping.  
  
“What were you hoping for?”  
  
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Can we finish that book?”  
  
Edgar looked at the book in his lap and back at Stephanie. She was still as tall as she’d been when she came out of the bathroom a few days ago, and had aged mentally enough that Edgar thought she’d be long out of the book sharing stage. He wondered if she ever had been in that stage at all.  
  
“You don’t want to finish it on your own?” he asked.  
  
“No, it’s fine if you read it. I don’t mind.”  
  
“Is something wrong?”  
  
”No. I like you reading it.”  
  
Edgar suspected otherwise by the way Stephanie sighed in frustration at his reading pace, but without Johnny to read the girl’s mind, he was stuck. While he read, he tried to process what he could do to balance Stephanie and Johnny and not make either too angry. His reading became automatic to the point that he stopped understanding the words and was simply stringing them along.   
  
Maybe Johnny just needed some sort of weird reassurance that he hadn’t been replaced. Edgar felt sure that wasn’t really the issue at hand, but again, since he had none of Johnny’s abilities, he really couldn’t be sure. Granted, Johnny could just tell him the exact problems and what he wanted, but that would be making Edgar’s life easy and an easy life was rarely granted to anyone who got too close to Johnny. He resolved somewhere near a paragraph about crossing a river that he’d try to talk to Johnny and make the living situation a little more comfortable, at the very least. Johnny had had enough time to stew.  
  
“You already read that one,” Stephanie said, annoyed.   
  
“What?”   
  
“You already read that paragraph.”  
  
“Oh. Oh, sorry, I was a little distracted.”  
  
“It’s okay, we can stop,” she said, taking the book from him. “You want to go talk to him, right?”  
  
Edgar tilted his head. Where was she picking this up from? “I was thinking about it, yeah.”  
  
“See you later, then. Good luck, I guess.”  
  
When he closed the door to her room, he regretted not saying more. Maybe next time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Réveille-Toi by Thierry Amiel
> 
> Translations of what appears above provided by my lovely beta, PolyesterRage, who can keep me not doing dumb linguistic things in two languages, apparently, and my ex, weirdly enough. We’ve all learned that LYX is of the German language persuasion and thus French was totally not in my knowledge range. 
> 
> I’ve sort of combined their translations here. I haven’t found an official translation yet, so here we go:
> 
>  
> 
> You are hungry, cold,  
> You do not sleep,  
> But you believe in it,  
> The chosen - it's you,  
> Love makes law,  
> Sacrifice yourself,  
> Enter here and give up all of your life
> 
> Awake/Wake Up
> 
>  
> 
> This is only the ending bit of the song, actually, but since it’s the only part that appears here, it’s what you get.


	6. White Noise

He carried dual motivations for what he was about to do and he only felt slightly bad about it. The virtuous one was that everyone had the right to a peaceful home life and non-hostile treatment day in and day out.  The selfish and slightly creepy one was that he disliked how his bed felt without another occupant and he was starting to feel lonely even with two other people in the house and a stalker on the side.

He walked as casually as he was able into the living room, which until now had been the danger zone that he and Stephanie avoided with out ever discussing it. Even when Johnny slept in his room upstairs they kept far from the pink chair and everything in its immediate vicinity.  So today, he was jumping over the mental caution tape and inviting some kind of confrontation which he hoped didn’t actually have to involve any confronting.

“Nny?”

No answer.

“Nny, I think we really need to figure something out here.”

“Good luck with that.” A response faster than Edgar had anticipated, at least.

“I think we’re all a bit worn out over the little cold war thing we have happening here.”

“Probably.”

Edgar sighed, realizing he was just going to have to jump into it.

“What do you want? What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Johnny stared at the fireplace, which was, as per usual, not lit and partially obstructed by piles of books and music.

“I miss you. And whole sentences.”

“Bed too cold?”

_Damn_. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Yeah? Enlighten me.”

“I’m worried this is going to keep getting worse? And that I’ll end up, by some weird cosmic twist of fate, alone in this big stupid house again.”

“Alone?”

“Well, you haven’t spoken to me for days, and Stephanie thinks she needs to go work in a fish market and be a proper miserable orphan.”

“Fish market.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to be alone in here,” Johnny said quickly. He was watching his foot twitch to some rhythm that Edgar couldn’t hear.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose someone over all of this when I’m not even sure what it all is.”

Edgar sat on the couch now that there was some level of communication established.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Johnny said distantly. “I’m staying.”

“Really?”

“You have to ask me that?” He didn’t turn his head, but glanced in Edgar’s direction. “You only exist because you gave up eternity in bliss-land to come live in this shit hole with me again, and I’m only alive because I fought my way out of Hell to be with you again.” He looked back to the motion of his foot. “Of course I’m staying.”

“I didn’t want this all to be torn up…,” Edgar said, trying not to react too strongly. “Didn’t want there to be a hole at all.”

“No plane crash leaves what it hits completely unscathed.”

“I know, but it’s a fairly small plane.”

“That got bigger when submerged in water.”  
  
 “Still.”

“So, have you come to offer me some sort of peace offering? Small pox, perhaps?” Johnny was smiling slightly, which was all Edgar had to infer that he wasn’t furious anymore.

“I’ve come to offer whatever you want,” Edgar said, his lungs suddenly feeling as though they were performing less than up to par. “I want you to be happy.”

Johnny looked at Edgar directly, and Edgar saw an expression there that made him uncomfortable, but it vanished quickly. It was replaced with calm amusement.

“So what will you do?” Johnny asked.

“Whatever you want. Whatever we can work out. I think you must know the kind of stupid things I’m willing to do for you by now?”

“Mmhmm,” Johnny nodded. “I also think you’ve been around long enough to know what I’d ask.”

Edgar swallowed, and nodded in answer, “I would take her somewhere else, if you wanted it that much.”

 His chest hurt to say it, so much more than to think it, but it was still true. As much as he liked and even cared about Stephanie, Johnny was still the center of it all, just like he’d been in the choir room. And Johnny was well aware of it.

Johnny rested his head against his wrist, staring at patch on the pink chair that was beginning to go bald. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Sure,” Edgar shrugged. “You even liked her before this all did… whatever this has done.”

“So, having her here makes you happy.” Johnny combed a few fingers through the longer stray bits of his hair.

“Yes?”

“I told you it was your turn.”

“Oh.”

“So she should be staying. I can’t just tell you to get rid of her.”

“You could.”

“But that would make me a total bastard.”

“Which is new how?”

Johnny smirked. “If I had something to throw, Edgar.”

Edgar returned the smirk. “That’s the only reason I said it.” His expression changed, and he went back to the task at hand. “Really, though. If you don’t want her here, tell me. Seriously.”

“I don’t.”  Edgar’s heart felt like it had been stabbed before Johnny continued, “But you do. She can stay.”

“You don’t have to do anything for her, you know,” Edgar said, trying to make the idea of Stephanie staying more appealing to Johnny. “I’ll take care of it, really. I’m not going to ask you to baby sit her or anything, I promise. She keeps to herself, you’ve seen her.”

“You’re getting into a dangerous place, Edgar.”

“Uh, I-”

“With her,” Johnny interrupted, when he saw Edgar’s face, “not with me. She’s going to see you differently than she sees Jimmy or me.”

“Ah.” Stephanie had been hinting violently at this just a while ago.

“I’m not willing to be seen as her Parent B just because you and I tend to come as a set.”

Edgar nodded. “I understand. I don’t think I really intended that, but I understand. Still, I mean, she likes you, it’ll be hard to prevent.”

“Which is why I was-”

“You don’t have to cruel to her, though. Just be her friend again. Stress that it’s just that, if need be.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That said,” Edgar added, standing up, “I think I can try to send her to Devi or Jimmy again for a few days.”

Johnny raised an amused eyebrow.

“If you’re interested, you know,” Edgar finished, shrugging with a smile.  Johnny grinned in return.

“Let her stay tonight, we can ship her out tomorrow.”

*****

  
Watch him make a casual phone call.

Watch him eat in front of the television with a psychopath again.  Said psychopath had only just stopped neglecting him for days on end.

Watch him joke with the little girl.

Watch psychopath snap at him for joking.

Watch him take it.

Want to jump through the window to fix this injustice.

Watch psychopath nearly strangle him with his own shirt collar.

Watch them disappear upstairs.

Wish the house had something to use to climb up to second floor and perform a rescue until there’s a sound of pain from the upstairs window.

Watch too much, perhaps.

  
*****

“God, when was the last time you cut those?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“You’re pleased with this, aren’t you?”

“You don’t look like you’re complaining.”

“I hate you.”

“Says the guy sitting on my legs.”

“Shut up.”

*****

When Edgar was jarred awake by the sound of knocking at his door in the middle of the night, he instantly worried that Johnny would take back everything about letting Stephanie stay. Johnny was curled beside him, half-tangled in blankets, and only curled tighter when he heard the knocking. He made some angry noises in response that made Edgar wince.

“Edgar!” Stephanie’s voice hissed from behind the door. She was trying to keep an element of a whisper in her voice, but, as Edgar knew from experience, it was hard to whisper through the thick wood.

“Whaaat?” Edgar groaned. He hadn’t meant to sound so unfriendly, but even he wanted to just burrow under something like Johnny had.

“Do we have any scissors?”

Johnny poked his head out of from under the pillow and quickly propped himself up on his arms. “Tell me she did not just fucking say what I think she said.”

“I am so sorry,” Edgar half-whispered. “I have no idea what could be so important.” He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can this wait till morning?” he called beyond the door.

“I… guess so. I’d rather not.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need a hair cut.”

Edgar wondered how he’d ever considered keeping her around instead of Johnny.

“Stephanie, really, this can wait till mor-”

“No, I’ve got this,” Johnny said suddenly. He slid off the side of the bed and opened the door while a baffled Edgar watched him.

“Oh, I see,” Johnny remarked when he got a good look beyond the door frame.

Edgar heard him walk Stephanie into the bathroom and wondered if he should follow. He remembered then that this would involve something sharp, Johnny, and a questionably nine-year-old girl that Johnny had just today decided could stay in the house.

Edgar grabbed his glasses and got up.

Inside the bathroom stood Johnny behind Stephanie, who was boosted to near Johnny’s height on a stool in front of the sink. They stared into the bathroom mirror, regarding Stephanie’s hair, which had grown several inches since Edgar had stopped by her room to tell her ‘good night.’

“We’re going to prevent this from being a frequent problem,” Johnny said casually, pulling a pair of scissors from nowhere. He began cutting huge sections from Stephanie’s hair with little regard for evenness or how much of it was ending up on the floor. Edgar winced with every snip of a few more inches, but Stephanie showed no signs of being bothered. She actually seemed more enthusiastic about it, the more Johnny took off. 

When Johnny declared her ‘done,’ she no longer had enough hair even for the pigtails she’d come to them with, but instead sported an uneven and rather unmanageable looking shock of hair that fell just below her ears. She leaned in close to the mirror, nearly touching her nose to it when Johnny asked her what she thought.

“It’s awesome,” she told him.

Edgar felt incredible relief that no one had been injured and that Stephanie was not upset about her hair. Johnny, however, looked concerned.

“Get away from the mirror,” he told her. She backed off, and Edgar had a flash of the monster from the motel for a moment.

“Can you see it from back here?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Johnny looked skeptical and cut a few random pieces off with no warning. “How is it now?”

Stephanie looked conflicted, and squinted at the mirror. Edgar couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier.

When Stephanie tried to lean in to the mirror again, Johnny pulled her back from it.

“Don’t lie,” he told her. He nodded toward Edgar, and for some reason, Edgar understood what he wanted and handed his glasses to Johnny. He put them on Stephanie, who looked ridiculous with them perched on her nose.

“Ahh, everything looks weird,” she whined. “It’s all coming at me.”

“That happens with ones you aren’t used to,” Edgar said.

“Can you see better or worse now?” Johnny asked her.

“Better, I think. It’s hard because everything is all bulgy in the middle. It’s all wrong.”

“Likely his eyes are worse than yours,” Johnny said, watching Stephanie in the mirror. When he reached down to take the frames from her and she jumped back, startled. 

“Gah, are your fingers bleeding?”

Johnny regarded his fingernails for a moment, then promptly laughed at her.

“No,” he replied, taking the glasses from her face. She squinted at him, sending a questioning look, but he said nothing else about his nails.

“Maybe we can send Devi out to get you some glasses that don’t make you look like a total loser.”

He tossed the glasses back to Edgar who suspected he was to be indirectly called a loser in exchange for Johnny not mentioning the origin of the blood. 

“You’re done for now,” Johnny told her, urging her with a shove to get off the stool and back to her room.

“Okay. Just for now?”

“Come get me tomorrow, and we’ll finish it.”

“I like how it looks now.”

“I do too,” Johnny said through a grin, “but it’s lacking some color.”

Stephanie lit up, and ran off to her room with a hurried ‘good night.’ It had been a while since Edgar had seen her so excited. Johnny strolled back into the room he shared with Edgar, leaving the scissors and hair in the bathroom.

“Where did that come from?” Edgar asked, trailing behind.

“I have my moments of charity.”

“Is that what that was?” Edgar raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to call it that.”

Edgar laughed lightly as he sat back on the bed. “Whatever you want, thanks. I mean, for all of it.”

Johnny shrugged. “Eh, she needed the haircut and she didn’t need to know about the state of your shoulder. Seemed logical to me.”

“Because you and logic have always been good friends.”

“Oh, yes. The closest.”

“Cheating on me with logic?”

“Boggles, doesn’t it?” Johnny laughed. “Though, logic actually seems to _mind_ when I scratch chunks out of it.”

“Hey, I can be charitable, too. Little blood sacrifice never hurt anyone.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, let me try to rephrase that in the morning.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

*****

In the morning, Stephanie tried her hardest not to look like she was anticipating doing something else insane to her hair. When she saw Johnny in the hall, she did her best not to jump on him immediately. Luckily, he seemed just as interested in messing up her hair as she was to have it done and he led her into the bathroom after little more than an acknowledging nod.

While Stephanie waited on the edge of the bathtub, Johnny rooted through the cabinet for some boxes.

“What color do you like, Banshee?”

“Green.”

“You know, for about half a second, I thought you were going to say ‘pink.’”

“Why?”

Johnny shrugged.

“Keep forgetting the pink pony therapy doesn’t work for you, I guess.”

“It could be pink, if you want.”

“What makes you think I’d have pink dye?”

“I… don’t?”

“It’s not fair to confuse her like that, jeez,” Edgar appeared in the doorway.  “What are you planning on?”

“Color?” Johnny held up some boxes and shook them at Edgar.

“Is that bleach?”

“I-“

“Nny, you can’t bleach her hair! She’s nine!”

“Actually,” Johnny said, holding a box to his chin in fake contemplation, “she’s going on a few months, I think.”

“That doesn’t make it any better. Can’t you use some drink mix or something?”

Johnny regarded the boxes in his hands for a moment, and then looked at Stephanie, who tried to look very enthusiastic and not four months old at the same time.

“Why don’t you go get the camera, Edgar?”  Johnny’s smile scared and thrilled Stephanie at the same time.  Edgar didn’t even argue, so Stephanie assumed it had a similar effect on him.

While Edgar was off rummaging through the ‘Potentially Useful Stuff’ trunk, Johnny was tearing boxes open, humming to himself.

“What’s wrong with bleach?” Stephanie asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then why doesn’t Edgar think it’s a good idea?”

“When does Edgar ever think _anything_ is a good idea?” Johnny asked, mixing some bad-smelling goop.  “He wanted to give you to the police when we found you.”

“Oh.”

“I doubt the police would have given you green hair.”

“He thinks it’s a good idea to keep me here now, though.” It was a statement, but she had to consciously try to make it that way.

“Yeah, the big freak.”

“Ah-”

“Nothing personal, Banshee. We’re friends, after all.”  Johnny snapped some gloves onto his hands, and then glanced out into the hallway, “Edgar’s just a big sap, that’s all.”

“Sap? Like syrup and stuff?”

“Heh, no. Not like syrup. Like soft and kind of mooshy in places.”

“That sounds like mold.”

Johnny snorted. 

“I don’t know how you ended up this awesome from being on the side of the road, but I’m starting to think everyone should just abandon their children for a while if this is what happens.”

“So it’s moldy, then?”

“No, no. It’s … it’s mooshy. Maybe it _is_ syrup… that kind of works with the whole – Eh, I guess ‘sentimental’ is the right word. Puppies and kittens and flowers and greeting cards and shit like that.”

“‘Romantic’, then.”

“Ech, if you have to put it like that, sure.”

“Shouldn’t he be?” Stephanie leaned forward and tried to look engrossed in the scary hand sculpture that sat in the corner of the bathroom, “I mean, if he loves you?”

“Not everybody likes that stuff. I thought you’d be up on that from being so weird. You don’t like pink; I don’t like mooshy shit.”

“I guess so.”

“Truthfully, I think we’re all lucky you don’t think rape and pillage or kidnapping is the ultimate expression of love.”

“Oh, like Hades. Or Zeus. Or Poseidon. Or-”

“Yeah, see?”

“Right.  Zeus seemed to like raping pretty boys.”

Johnny shrugged in response, so Stephanie kept going.

“I think what I don’t get is that he raped people as animals. Wouldn’t people have liked a god more instead of a bull or an eagle?”

“Maybe it’s like it’s not his fault if he rapes people like a petting zoo.”

“What the hell are you telling her?!” Edgar had reappeared in the doorway, horrified expression on his face, camera in hand.

“Nothing she wasn’t already telling me,” Johnny answered.  He smiled deviously at both Edgar and Stephanie, prompting glee from Stephanie and just the opposite from Edgar.

“You don’t really process things like this, do you?” Edgar asked as Johnny rounded up the proper chemicals.  Johnny motioned for Stephanie to stand in front of him while Edgar continued complaining.

“She just talked about _animal rape_ , Nny.”

“Mmhmm.  Okay, Banshee, here’s the thing. This is probably gonna itch like fucking hell, but you can’t touch it or you’ll burn your hand off.”

Stephanie nodded, eyes wide.

“Did you hear me?” Edgar asked.

“Take a picture, will you?” Johnny shot back while smearing questionable chemicals on Stephanie’s head. “And yes, I heard you.”

“And?” The flash from the camera hurt Stephanie’s eyes almost as much as the fumes.

“And who gave her the books with animal rape in them?” Johnny asked sweetly.

Edgar looked conflicted, and Johnny’s smile widened. 

“There you go. Maybe you should start screening what she reads, hmm?”

“It’s okay,” Stephanie said from under her hood of fumes and chemicals, “I’m not gonna rape anybody.”

Johnny laughed so hard he had to leave the room.  Edgar told her it was just the fumes.

 

*****

“Aunt Devi?”

“Yeah?”  
   
“Nny and Edgar like each other more than they like me.”

Devi eyed the now green-haired girl. “What?”

“They do.”

“I- yeah, I know, but… what. Where did that come from?”

Stephanie sunk into the paint and coffee stained cushions of Devi’s couch, holding her tea cup with both hands. She hadn’t taken more than half a (likely tongue-burning) sip of it since Devi gave it to her twenty minutes ago, and hadn’t said much until just now, when she decided this little outburst of the obvious was important to call to Devi’s attention.

She’d been dropped off with Devi early that afternoon, and had been frustrated the entire time.

“I just thought Edgar maybe would like me more,” Stephanie said, staring intently at the wall in front of her. “People in stories and books always sacrifice their lovers and wives for their children.”

“Okay, I think you may have some crossed wires or something,” Devi said, biting her lip. “That’s all sort of true, but you’re not their, or even just Edgar’s… anything. I mean, you’re not biological or anything.”

“This shouldn’t be bothering me.”

Devi blinked at the girl in response. Stephanie was just sitting there, staring into space, talking of important things in clothes that didn’t quite fit her and that she’d already cut weird fringes and shapes into. The more Devi looked, the more something felt eerily familiar.

It wasn’t quite deja-vu, but it was damn close. When Stephanie opened her mouth to say something, but then clamped it closed again in frustration, Devi flinched at how familiar the expression seemed.  When Stephanie’s hands tightened over and over on the cup she held, Devi watched the knuckles and flaking black nail polish with interest she’d thought she’d long ago lost.  Stephanie’s socks had holes already and the thread holding her sleeves on was a different color than any other part of the shirt. Devi’s breath locked her voice in her throat for a few seconds before she was able to make any actual words.

“Sweetie, I’m gonna… go ask Tenna something,” she muttered when her vocal cords returned to her, “I’ll be right back.” 

There was a non-committal nod and a sort of grunt in response.

In the other room, Tenna was happily watching some overdone puppet show while sprawled over a chair and slurping some soup from a Tupperware container. She didn’t bother to acknowledge Devi, though Devi knew she had been seen.

“Tenna, can you come with me for a sec?”

“Can you wait for a commercial?”

Devi looked over her shoulder at Stephanie still fixated on that spot on the wall. “Sure,” she said, shrugging. Not like Stephanie was going anywhere.

When Tenna’s sock puppet indulgence was interrupted by some advertising, she came to the door. Devi gave her a ‘shush’ motion, and had her shuffle slightly into the kitchen where she could see Stephanie, but still not look obvious. Stephanie didn’t show that she noticed them, if she did.

“What do you see?” Devi asked.

“Is this like Waldo? You know, that little fucker is alwa-”

“No, this is not like Waldo, Tenna. Just her.”

Tenna tilted her head, and squinted. She stood there, arms crossed, for quite some time. Devi briefly felt concerned she’d be stuck like that before Tenna shifted her weight.

“She looks… like Nny.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’m not crazy?”

Tenna raised an eyebrow.

“ _Tenna_.”

“Fine, not crazy.”

“Good,” Devi said, adjusting a pencil that was tucked behind her ear. “I wish you could have seen him this young – or even close to this. Aside from the green hair, and the being a sulky little girl, that’s really dead on.”

“Well, the glasses will help,” Tenna pointed out.

“‘Help’?” Devi asked. “Is thiiss… bad?”

“Devi, remember back when Nny was dead, and we-” She stopped abruptly. “Damn, that still feels weird to say.” Tenna shook her head as though ridding herself of the weird, and continued. “Remember when you told me to be Edgar for a minute?”

“Yeesss.” Devi didn’t like where this was heading.

“Look at her,” Tenna said, gesturing to the couch, “and see a child who looks like Nny from Edgar-O-Vision. What completely bat shit things does he start assuming? What completely insane stuff might he already think?”

“Oh, motherfuckingshit,” Devi groaned. “We need to find some really obtrusive glasses.”

*********

  
“Nny?”

“What?”

“Does Stephanie have a song?”

“Sure.”

“Can you hear it?”

“What’s the problem?”

“I just haven’t heard anything, so I wondered if she even had one.”

“She has to have one. I think she wouldn’t exist if she didn’t.”

“I just thought, since I’d heard yours, that I’d be able to hear hers too.”

“It’s not like mine is the key to the universe. Besides, we don’t know anything about songs in people this young. Just let it go, you’ll hear it.”

“I wonder if she’s heard ours.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked her. We could go ask Pepito about it. We still haven’t been to see him.”

“If I wasn’t assured otherwise, I’d think you were fixated on him.”

“Competition, Edgar, look the hell out. Your only chance to win me back is to bug one of your eyes out of your head and grow horns.”

“Or never bathe. I think it would inspire those effects anyway.”

“Yeah, but Pepito doesn’t smell.”

“Damn, so close.”

Johnny laughed, but for a change, it wasn’t _at_ Edgar. 

“You know what she told me while we were adding color to her hair?” he asked.

Edgar winced, though he was happy to steer the subject away from Pepito.

“What?”

“She told me that she wanted to cover either herself or all our valuable stuff in anthrax. To be like Sekhmet.”

“Anthrax?!”

“Is that awesome or what?”

“There’s a god that covers himself in anthrax?”

“Goddess,” Johnny corrected, “but yeah, sort of.  Her statues were pretty public so they were covered in poison to dissuade people from walking off with them. This seems like something we could employ on stage.”

“Because I’ll be able to play covered in anthrax.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Edgar. No one’s looking to steal you.”

“I’m just as cool as anthrax goddess.”

“Do you belch fire while quenching your bloodlust in the drunken slaughter of all mankind?”

“ _These_ are the goddesses she likes?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to show her the goddess of suicide.”

Edgar shoved Johnny harder than he initially meant to.

“Don’t you dare! She’ll get insane ideas!”

“Yeah, not like covering herself in anthrax at all,” Johnny muttered, readjusting from the shove.

“I swear, the more I think she’s going to be okay, the more I hear she’s learned some new batshit thing from you.”

“You wanted us to be friends.”

“I didn’t want you to corrupt her though.”

“Like I’d be able to do anything else.”

Edgar sighed.

“That’s true, sadly.”

“I think she’d be boring any other way, honestly.”

“God forbid. You decide that she’s boring some day and we all discover later that she’s been left at a convenience store somewhere.”

“Her song is going to be awesome.”

“You think?”

“Has to be.”

“I hope it’s not as difficult to deal with as yours.”

“I hope for exactly the opposite.”

“You seem to like doing that.”

For what was likely the first time in months, Johnny looked like he honestly had no idea what Edgar meant.

“Comparing yourself to her,” Edgar explained when Johnny’s expression remained for more than a few seconds.

“Maybe I see things in her you don’t,” Johnny answered.

“Maybe you just see yourself in everything.”

“That’s no different than anyone else.”

“It is, because it’s you. I can’t exactly say how, but it’s different.”

“Let me know when you figure that out.”

While he spoke, Johnny’s song screamed in Edgar’s head and shattered some of Johnny’s words.  Edgar flinched, though it didn’t hurt. When he opened his eyes again, they focused on the closet that had remained unopened and unbothered with for quite some time.  That time ago, Edgar would have been happy to bolt the damn thing shut and ignore it, but with the addition of the things that had appeared in his mind when it was opened, he thought he should give it some kind of cautious chance. 

He then reasoned that because he had made this decision it would be the wrong one and soon the monster from the motel would come waltzing into Edgar’s bed room and casually devour the both of them before slithering off into the sunset.

Or something.

“Nny, what do you think we should do with the not-closet?” Edgar kept his gaze locked on the non-descript door rather than look at Johnny.

“Don’t put our shit in it? Or do, and see if said shit manifests in our skulls later?”

“Come on, I’m serious.”

“There’s nothing to do with it, Edgar. It’s attached to the wall, in case you missed that memo.”

“I don’t mean ‘take it out’ or ‘bulldoze the house’, I just mean in regards to opening it again. Or taking a nail gun to it, I guess.”

“I bet Banshee would really like a nail gun.”

“Please don’t.”

“You’re making this ‘friends with the girl’ thing really hard, you know that?”

“Ice cream or books or something, Nny, not nail guns.”

“Books with animal rape in them, right?”

“Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because Banshee will talk about animal rape?”

Edgar laughed, which surprised him a little.

“Fine, fine.  Back to the closet?”

Johnny shrugged, “Sure.”

“Think it’s dangerous?”

“And we’re back to, ‘Edgar, it’s a closet.’”

“Really.”

“I don’t think anything’s going to come out of it and rape me in my sleep if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s pretty to close to what I mean, yeah. With the whole…,” Edgar made a conjuring motion, trying to think of a better word than the one he was about to use, “…wall thing.” 

“It doesn’t live in the closet.”

“Says the man who saw it living in a television.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Nny, I know you probably don’t even remember this, but the reason the phone downstairs was murdered in its prime was _you_ worrying about the wall. I don’t even really know why you call it that.”

“It’s always been called that.”

“You’re doing that to scare me.”

“Not really,” Johnny shook his head, “but it’s a perk.”

“Still,” Edgar pushed, “this is sort of big deal. I want to find out what’s causing it and stop it before something big happens again.”

“You might be a little late.  We’ve already taken in mysterious girl and now she’s doing magical growing.  Soon, inexplicable things will happen, Devi will pounce Tenna on TV, Pepito will feed us cookies without other motives and gifts will arrive for Banshee from Valhalla or something.”

“That thing seems to really mess with you, maybe even more than Tess does.”

Johnny’s gaze snapped immediately from the closet to Edgar’s eyes.

“Tess?”

“Um, yes?”

“Her name was Tess.”

Edgar felt his heart pounding somewhere in the area of his stomach, and thoughts of how he could lie about knowing her name flashed through his brain, most of them awful. Luckily, he didn’t need them.

“Her name was Tess,” Johnny repeated. “I couldn’t remember it before. It was just her and that damn guy with the weird shaped head…”

His breathing slowly became more erratic and he ran a hand over the back of his head. Without much forethought, Edgar took hold of Johnny’s wrists.

“Hey. It’s all right,” Edgar tightened his grip for emphasis. “You always used to tell me how you weren’t the person you remembered.  Don’t let it bother you so much.”

“I really can’t help it.”

“Do you… think talking to her would help?”

Johnny tried to pull away at the suggestion.

“No. God, no. She’s too-And I feel so much like I-”

He stopped abruptly, and looked at Edgar’s fingers wrapped around his wrists.

“Don’t worry about it,” Johnny said as his breathing slowed to normal. “Really. Don’t.”

“But-”

“Your turn, remember?”

Edgar let go of Johnny’s wrists.

“I know,” Edgar replied quietly, “but I’m worried that my happiness hinges pretty greatly on yours.”

“I can be happy and remember crazy at the same time.”

“I don’t really want you to. To be crazy, I mean.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnny smiled.

“Yes.”

*********

Stephanie was quiet when Devi and Tenna coaxed her into the car, and remained that way for the entire drive to all the stores in town where cheap reading glasses could be found.  A dollar store and a pharmacy failed to produce anything that Stephanie could actually see with.

“These hurt,” Stephanie complained of the first pair.

“These are ugly,” she said of the ninth.

“I look like an old lady.”

“These just make everything bulgy.”

“I hate these.”

“I don’t need these.”

It was when Stephanie actually turned and yelled at Tenna that she needed glasses just for her and not for old people that Devi realized they couldn’t cheat their way out of the glasses.

“You don’t think those donation boxes in the grocery store would have any for her, do you?” Tenna asked on their way back to the car after the final failed general store.

“Only old people ever donate those, Tenna. And even so, she’s right about the glasses. We _do_ need to get some just for her. I had just hoped we wouldn’t have to wait for them.”

“Edgar sent her to us like this, didn’t he? Don’t you think he’s noticed that his favorite new toy looks alarming like his boyfriend already? I mean, really. I know I brought it up and everything, but still.”

“I’m willing to bet Edgar is selectively blind.”

“I could think of a million ways to counter that if she were not here,” Tenna said, grinning.

“How nice of you to restrain yourself.”

“I’m a saint, really. It’s what it comes down to.”

“Can we just go home?” Stephanie asked.

“We have to make sure you can see first,” Tenna told her.

“I _can_ see!”

“But crappily,” Devi replied, opening the car door. Stephanie climbed inside, but was still displeased.

“Maybe it’ll go away,” she said.

“Yeah, like Edgar’s did, right?” Tenna joked.

“How long has he had them?” 

“Since before we knew him, I guess. Years and years.”

“Blech,” Stephanie sighed melodramatically and slid down the back of the seat and almost out of her seatbelt. “ _Ishtar_ didn’t wear glasses.”

Every specialist in town wanted them to come in for an appointment weeks later, even when Devi pulled the ‘marginally famous’ card.  She found herself wishing for the times that she could have just slid into the office at night, invisible to everything, and tried to operate the machines and get glasses on her own.  She’d worn glasses herself when she was younger, but they were correcting a minor case at best so she just tossed them when she grew out of them. 

Upon reflection, though, she couldn’t remember where they had come from. Had her apartment just generated them? Had Johnny’s choir room?

While Devi stood at the reception desk, trying to come up with fancy ways of getting in ahead of the other appointments on the list, Tenna and Stephanie tried on the ugliest plastic glasses in the waiting area.  Tortoiseshell plastic with gigantic lenses and bars across the forehead dwarfed Stephanie’s face, and some children’s glasses with a neon frog in the bottom corner of one lens sat perched on the end of Tenna’s nose, poking her in the eye with the unfolded arms.

“Shame they don’t have prescription star glasses,” Tenna said, glancing around for a new pair to try on.

“Do they have any of those smart old man ones?” Stephanie asked, still sporting the brown plastic monstrosity. “You know the kind that’s just one?” She made a circle with her thumb and finger around her eye in an attempt to clarify.

“A monocle?” Tenna laughed. “I’m sure you’d look very stately in one, but I think _both_ of your eyes are messed up.”

Devi gave up annoying the secretary and sat down in a chair near Tenna.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Tenna asked, perching some tiny glasses on the tip of her nose.

“It’s going to be at least a week before they get us in, if at all.”

“And... we want to do this today somehow?”

“That would be nice.”

“Did it occur to you, Oh Impatient One, that even if we got in today, she’d still need at least another week to get the glasses?”

“I guess I keep hoping we’ll be like Johnny.”

“Inconsiderate, socially incomprehensible, and selfish with rare flashes of brilliant?” Tenna tilted her head to the side.

“No, no. Magically able to get everything we set out for.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that works too.”

“Let’s get going,” Devi said, rising to her feet, “I have something else I’d like to check.”

Devi left the building showing some signs of wear, while Stephanie and Tenna trailed after her, careful not to accidentally steal the monstrous glasses on their faces.

**********

As much as he had told Edgar not to worry, Johnny worried as much as he was able. To his credit, it wasn’t worrying so much as it was concerned curiosity. Conveniently, Edgar seemed to have something he wanted to do outside the house, so Johnny was left alone with the closet again.

The problem with the things he began remembering was that they seemed to want company. The benefit to the closet was that it still seemed to be holding true to Johnny’s original wish to not remember the shit. Even though he knew it was in there, Johnny hadn’t clearly remembered any of the despicable things he knew he had to have done.

When he opened the door, though, there were enough things to deal with, despicable or not.

He was angry and seething all the time.  Always bitter and twisted and more often on the clean side of filthy.  He said he would kill the house’s new not-occupant in his head as often as he wished for that one to stay. Voices questionably his own argued with him over killing who and when and how and why or not at all.

Those voices rarely made sense. 

Voices he knew were his, voices he was sure weren’t.  Either way, they stopped saying anything meaningful lifetimes ago.  The things they said spilled out from whatever mouths they were hiding in and fell into waves of static and interference. Words that meant nothing, things he could only assume were words.  Everything swirled around him and through him and gummed up the works and shut things down and wasted things away. 

Rusting voices.

They felt like nothing and knives at the same time.  Daily, these things raged in his skull and there was no escaping them. All the Freezies in the world couldn’t fix it, couldn’t still it even for a moment.    
  
Though Devi once had.

And Edgar.

Even Jimmy, just in a backwards way.

The perceptions of them twisted and warped, ensuring he’d never get a solid image of them. Just feelings.  The feelings were the worst things anyway. They were what picked him up and dangled him like a rag doll in his own mind. They were what let Edgar stay, they were what let Devi live, they were what made Freezies so fucking beautiful.

It pounded through him constantly, and he thought there may have been a rhythm in it yet. Something of it had to make sense.  Voices that sang or moaned - he couldn’t be sure - rang through everything. He felt positive they were words that he should have understood, but they resonated in his head as though through a telephone in a swimming pool. Under the water there was always that annoying click, but never words. Everything slowed, no matter how much you knew it was churning.

Noise that was voice and voice that was noise.  All of it at once and none at all.

Best friend, huh? 

Pounding repeating notes. So much grating, scratching noise.

White noise. 

He found himself sprawled against the bed, one foot tangled in a blanket, the other on the threshold of the offending closet. 

A closet full of nothing but memory.

What bothered Johnny about the closet, other than its occasional seizing of his brain, was that the room wasn’t just a projection into space or some magical add-on from Pepito. When Johnny analyzed it from the outside, architecturally, the room was always there and the house was built with it. 

There was nothing making it magically appear; something had stopped keeping it invisible.

Edgar’s book had long ago ceased keeping track of his movements. Edgar once said he missed the book because it used to remind him of when he was low on tortilla chips. Johnny was fairly sure this was Edgar making light of something that freaked him out, which Johnny had to admit he did himself, just as often, if not more often, than Edgar.  Perhaps the book and the door were related.

He remembered the continuing influx of ‘not shit’ with a hazy kind of clarity; nothing made sense, but the images were as crisp to him as photographs. Pictures of the house, of his own hands, of Edgar, of Devi and Jimmy.  All different in ways that were both subtle and glaring.  

The room stared back through him when he glanced into it. Johnny wanted to be seeing the bright white that Banshee described, not the rotting room in front of him.  The floor, should he ever be able to enter the room without collapsing a footstep beyond the doorframe, looked like it wouldn’t even hold Banshee’s weight, let alone his own, no matter how skinny he was.  Was it some kind of illusion? Was the floor really solid or would he go tearing through the floor and into a special kind of Hell if he ever managed to set foot upon it?

They still hadn’t visited Pepito. Johnny wasn’t sure why he didn’t just go on his own.

He kicked his foot free of the blanket it was wrapped in and crossed his legs, reasonably content to sit on the floor and ponder everything.  A glass paperweight that he didn’t remember owning rolled across the floorboards and bumped his hand.  It directed the light in odd ways when he held it above his head, but it wasn’t anything special. In just about every way, actually, the trinket containing some crudely spun flowers was rather tacky.  

“Waiting for him, maybe?” Johnny asked the glass ball. Waiting until Edgar was ready to visit Pepito.  “I’m sentimental about the Anti-Christ. Edgar likes lyrics. I guess that works out somewhere.”  The glass ball felt alive when it filled with light.

“Fuck,” Johnny said with a sigh.  He watched the ceiling for nothing at all and then made the light reflecting from the ball dance to the song he was either making up or remembering. The highlighted spot moved quickly with the slightest change in his wrist.

When he stood up, the light in the paperweight grew cold and died, and the ball rolled under the bed.  Johnny thought it likely that he’d never see it again.

 

**********

  
**“** Devi, this is the school.”

“I know. We’re going to check on something.”

“Do I have to go in?” Stephanie asked.

“What, are you actually scared of something?” Devi asked.

“No, it just doesn’t have a ferryman, and it makes me feel kinda weird.”

“Why would there be a ferryman in a school?” Tenna opened Stephanie’s door, but she looked reluctant to move.

“The floor in there needs a ferry.”

“Over what?” Tenna asked. “Last time I was in there it was solid ground.”

“It just really needs one.”

“Come on,” Devi said firmly. “We’re not leaving you out here so Pepito can eat you or serve you cookies or something.”

“Wait, what? Cookies?” Stephanie squeaked as she was hauled out of the car.

“Devi, this is a lot of effort to try to keep something weird from Edgar for a few days,” Tenna remarked as they walked down the familiar hallway to the choir room.

“She needs glasses, Tenna.”

“Oh, it’s virtuous now, I see.”

The door to the mini-classroom attached to the office was locked, which Devi expected, but checked on anyway. What she hadn’t expected was for the office to be untouched.

“They haven’t changed the locks?” Devi looked through the dusty glass at all the trappings of her pre-Homicides days in awe.  “What would they do with all this old shit in here?”

“Maybe it’s like an altar,” Tenna suggested.

“Ooh, really?” Stephanie asked, slipping closer to the door and suddenly completely fine with entire school experience.

“I would not be even a little surprised if there were altars to Johnny somewhere, really,” Devi said, pushing her shoulder against the door.

“Devi this may surprise you, but locked doors are frequently coaxed open with keys.”

“Do I look like Nny, Tenna? I don’t have magical keys. I just thought they’d have changed it by now.”

“And that you’d be able to break _their_ locks?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s still Nny’s lock,” Stephanie said, peering through the glass.

“Did he take you here?” Devi asked.

Stephanie nodded, still straining to see into the room, “Uh-huh, for a little bit. He came to get something and brought me with him.”

“Sounds like him,” Devi said, taking in the view of the room that the dirty glass allowed. “Still, guess this isn’t going to work.”

Tenna looked like she wanted more details, but didn’t ask for them.

Devi led the others back out of the school, which, when she thought about it, probably shouldn’t have been open. Across the street, Pepito waved at them from his porch.  Devi tried to get the others to duck into the car quickly enough for him to do no more, but he appeared beside her before either she or Tenna could start the car.

“Greetings,” he said sweetly.

“Pepito, the last time I really had to look at you, you were stealing Johnny’s dead body, so I think I’d appreciate it if you just-”

“How long have you had her?” Pepito asked, poking the window looking in on Stephanie.

“She’s not important, just go home and corrupt that nervous looking guy of yours some more. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

“How long have you had her?” Pepito repeated.

“A little while,” Tenna answered, earning a glare from Devi.

“She’s already so old,” Pepito ran a long nail over the window, which Stephanie watched with intense interest.

Devi stopped trying to steer around the horned man for a moment and leaned toward him, eyes narrow.

“Do you know something about her?”

“Not really,” Pepito said, smiling. He waved at Stephanie, who returned the gesture.

“‘Not really?’ You can do better than that.”

“I know _of_ her, but don’t worry – I’m not looking to claim this one once she’s served her purpose or anything.”

“How comforting. I’m sure we’ll all sleep well tonight,” Devi deadpanned.

“She might be interested in these though,” Pepito said, producing a pair of black-framed glasses from nothing at all. “They came for her the other day.”

“What the hell, are you her mailbox now?”

“I didn’t ask,” he answered, shrugging.

Stephanie rolled her window down, and Pepito handed her the glasses. She showed a remarkable amount of comfort around him, though Devi thought maybe it was just that she didn’t know who he was yet.

“Hey, whoa!” Stephanie exclaimed, holding the lenses to her eyes. “This is so much better!”

Pepito shrugged cheerily when Devi shot a glare at him and vanished before she could question more.

“Shitfuckdamn,” she muttered, falling back against the car door.

“Well,” Tenna said slowly, “the bright side here is that it’s all done today.”

“And what do I tell Edgar? Or even Nny if he even still gives a shit? ‘Oh, durr hurr, they just came from the sky!’?”

“The ‘Durr Hurr They’re From Pepito’ explanation doesn’t seem any less okay, really.”

“What’s wrong with Pepito?” Stephanie asked. “Is it that whole Satan thing?”

“You know about this?” Devi asked.

Stephanie blinked.

“Of course you know about this,” Devi answered for herself. “You live with Nny.”

“Maybe they won’t even ask,” Tenna suggested. “I mean, where does Edgar get his glasses?”

“The guys upstairs, maybe.”

“Upstairs?” Stephanie asked, sliding her glasses on and off her nose.

“Yeah, you know,” Devi said, gesturing lamely to the sky. “Heaven or whatever.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“You read all that mythology and you don’t know about Heaven?”

“I know about Hades.  I know about Valhalla. I know about the West and Osiris. And, um, the Underworld, and Hell, and-”

“Heaven is for the good people.”

“There’s a difference?”

“None of those things you read has a Heaven?”

“Zeus… puts people in the stars?”

“No, I mean-” Devi tried again.

“Devi, let it go. Make Edgar tell her about it,” Tenna said, irritated. “I’m going to start this car and leave without you.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go.”

Upon their return to Devi’s place, Tenna remarked that the glasses did a lot of good for concealing Stephanie’s ‘crazy Johnny face.’

Later that evening, Devi said much the same.

Over dinner, Devi asked Stephanie to take her glasses off so she could compare the ‘Nny Factor’ in both states.

And before bed, Stephanie stubbornly refused to take the glasses off to sleep.

*********

  
Edgar felt a kind of pride that he was able to go out to meet Tess with no protesting or questions from Johnny, but was concerned that he had to even feel proud of it.  Her constant insistence on the abuse he apparently suffered was beginning to get to him. Repetitions of innocence and happiness in his head began sounding like trying too hard or overcompensating and he was worried he’d start to argue with himself. 

Shame it was so hard to get Johnny to talk about anything even related to Tess’ issues.

She stood near the front of the restaurant where they were meeting, looking anxious until she caught sight of him.

“Oh god, Edgar, I was worried!” she exclaimed, running to greet him. She looked like she wanted to inspect him.

“Um, why?” Edgar surveyed his appearance, but saw no bruises or injuries that he’d have to explain were not committed by Johnny.

Tess led Edgar inside and to a booth she’d already set her things in while she explained, “I saw him being so rough with you after you guys ‘made up’ the other day.  And after he apparently took you upstairs and smacked you around or something…”

“Whoa, whoa, back up,” Edgar said, throwing his coat on the seat beside him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tess sighed and settled into her seat in the booth.

“He grabbed your shirt and threatened you and everything. You don’t remember this? I know I heard you yell after you were up there for a while.”

“Okay, Tess, really. This crazy thing? It’s got _you_ , actually.”

“Wow, this is displacement to the third degree or something, amazing. You’re a psychological wonder.”

“No, you really… don’t get it.”

“What’s to get?”

“Um. It really wasn’t anything like you’re saying it was.  I was fine, I swear.”

Tess looked skeptical, which was sadly not unusual.

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to ignore what I heard?” she asked, turning a pepper shaker over in her hands.

“I’d prefer it if you did.”

“That’s covering for him, you know.”

“No. No it really isn’t.”

“What did he do?”

“It was an accident.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s not that bad, really.”

“Edgar, what did he _do_?”

“He scratched me,” Edgar answered quietly.

Tess screwed up her face and rubbed her eyes a few times.

“Edgar, please. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Are you? You sound fucking nuts, Tess. Seriously.”

“How do you scratch someone accidentally?”

“It’s my shoulder.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Welcome to my world.”

Edgar sighed and stared at the reflection on the dessert menu before he said anything else.

“Tess,” he said after his contemplation of cherry pie, “can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.” She sounded pleased that the conversation was going in another direction.

“Can we… just talk about something else?”

“We can’t run from what’s happening to you, Edgar, he-”

“I don’t mean to run,” Edgar interrupted, “I just, honestly, would like to just talk about something. Friends, right? How ‘friends’ can we be if we just bitch about Nny every time we see each other?”

It was Tess’ turn to look for enlightenment in the cherry pie advertisement. She looked pleased, if a little distant.

“Sure. We can drop it for today.”

Edgar didn’t expect Tess to be capable of it, but she never even covertly touched on the subject of Johnny for the remainder of the afternoon.  They discussed playing instruments (Tess had played the flute in elementary school in one of her lives), the food at the restaurant (kinda shitty), the disrepair of the library (arguably shittier) and any number of subjects that could fall in between. Edgar found himself almost forgetting that the woman he was conversing with was the same one that routinely tried to shoot holes in his relationship until it almost became unavoidable.

“So, here’s something that’s sort of dangerous territory,” Edgar said between sips of his drink, “given the boundaries I’ve set and all, but what kind of things do you remember about lives before this one?”

“Aside from the known universe disappearing around me?”

“Right.”

“Eh, just a life, really,” Tess leaned back into the booth’s padded seat. “It wasn’t anything flashy. I had some shitty friends and some shittier boyfriends, but I just did what I could, you know?”

“I suppose so. How are your friends now?”

“Well, you’re pretty un-shitty.”

“I can’t be the only one, though.”

“I’m pickier now than I used to be. And, you know, considering the only people who can see me are you and… well. Let’s say my options are limited.”

“I wonder if Devi can see you.” Edgar laughed a moment after the words left his mouth, “That sounds so weird now.”

“Devi is the drum woman, right?”

“Yeah, she might be someone you’d like talking to.”

“How so?”

“You two had similar experiences? Something like that.”  Tess stared at Edgar almost accusingly, so he rushed to change the subject. “Your other life though, we were talking about that,” he tried.

“Sure. What else about it?”

“Shitty boyfriends?”

Tess gave him a look that he could only describe as ‘knowing’ and he sorely regretted picking the topic.

“I had them, like _everyone_ does at some point. Started to realize my shitty company was becoming a recurring theme, so I decided to try to do something about it. I wasn’t terribly successful, but I wasn’t given a lot of time, either.  I was kind of a lousy judge of character.”

“Are you sure you’re not now?”

“Excuse me?”

Edgar flinched, “Sorry. Forget it.”

“I’m sure that you’re good people, Edgar.”

“I know, but I wasn’t – yeah, never mind.”

“I think I’d like to talk to your Devi.”

Edgar sighed in relief.

“That would be great.”

“What do you do beyond playing in that band of yours, anyway?” Edgar didn’t know where this bit of conversation was headed, but was more than welcoming to the change.

“Watch bad movies, I think.  Read weird books and magazines.  Stephanie and Johnny have me going through mythology lately so I don’t have to decode their conversations.”

Tess laughed and rattled her cup for the waitress to refill again.

“Bad movies? What kind of bad are we talking here?”

“The kind where the monster has a zipper on his back, mostly. Or the ones where the actors speak like there are periods after every three words of dialog.”

“There’s a show on the science fiction channel like that,” Tess said, pointing with her spoon. “The main guy is always talking like that and losing his shirt.”

“Yeah, we know that one. Stephanie watched it once and Johnny dissected the whole thing with a remarkably feminist slant.”

“Really?” Tess sounded doubtful.

“Yes, really, but I’m not expecting you to believe that.”

Tess adjusted her glasses and looked as though she was struggling with pushing a reaction to Edgar’s statement back into her throat.

“How do you get along with her, anyway? Stephanie, I mean.”

“Fine, why?”

“Maybe you could bring her with you sometime.”

“I think you’re going to need me to trust you more before that happens.”

“Let’s work on that next time, then.”

“If you want, sure.”

“You’re protective of her.”  The motion of Tess’ spoon in her drink neared the level of hypnotic.

“Of course I am. No one else really wants to be.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to fall to you.”

“It sort of does. And I don’t mind, anyway. She’s brilliant for her age – whatever that is – so it’s really not like baby sitting.”

“How charming of you.”

Edgar shrugged, “It’s nothing, really.”

“Brilliant how?”

“She takes in information like a sponge. She makes all these weird mythology references that I’ll probably never catch up to.  She apparently went through some text books at Jimmy’s once and determined that she should be having some kind of psychological break down based on the stuff in the books and not having any parents.”

“She does seem to be holding her own with you two.”

“Yeah, though I guess what gets me is that she sometimes misses things that happen outside her mythology books.  Certain terms make no sense to her, and why people can’t transform into animals and trees at will just can’t be explained to her. I’m starting to think she’s some kind of genius, but only in a restricted range.”

“Maybe that’s why someone left her on the road.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding, Edgar, jeez,” Tess said, laughing. “Lighten up, I’m not attacking her.”

“Sorry. It’s true though; I’m still not sure about why she was just there. We were supposed to go ask Pepito about it, but I feel… well, considering how things went last time we involved him, I haven’t exactly been jumping at the chance.”

“Yeah, understandable.”

Edgar looked up from the placemat in front of him and stared at Tess intently.

“You… you don’t know him, do you?”

“I know _of_ him. I’m not gonna go inviting him over for tea and scones though.”

Edgar breathed an obvious sigh of relief, and found he cared very little for how Tess interpreted it.

“Worried I’m the agent of Satan?” she asked, grinning.

“It’s a justified fear by this point, right?”

“I think so. What, it’s been a dead boyfriend and some evil keys and a crazy book now, right?”

“And conceivably a small child, yes.”

“Better get her checked out. She could be a vampire.”

“What?”

Tess grinned again and then donned a mock-serious expression.

“Is it vampires, Edgar? You can tell me. I know some people who got out of vampires. I can help you.”

Edgar laughed in return.

“I think I can handle my vampires on my own, thanks.”

**********

There was knocking at his door, and he had no idea why. He hadn’t called anyone to come over today, and everyone he was supposed to be friends with ignored him. The girl he was pretending to have as a girlfriend hadn’t bothered with him in a week or so.

Jimmy shuffled through some discarded Chinese Take-Out boxes and opened his door, hoping he’d have to sign for a package and being only slightly disappointed when it turned out to be Devi and the Little One sporting new hair.

“Kleine! What are you doing here? Nice hair. And glasses, too?”

Devi nodded as though Jimmy had been talking to her and shuffled the depressed looking Stephanie into Jimmy’s living room.

“Hi, Uncle Jimmy,” the girl managed as she was pushed along.

“Um, what’s going on?” Jimmy asked. He didn’t bother addressing the question to either of them in particular.

“I have a question for you, Jimmy,” Devi replied groggily.

“Oh, Devi, I don’t think we should be meeting like this,” Jimmy mocked with an exaggerated flick of his wrist.

“Don’t fuck with me. I am not in the mood.” Devi glared at him, and the Little One just sulked.  

“We had a long night,” Devi said, glancing in the girl’s direction.

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep her here again, if that’s what you’re after.”

“That’s not it, actually,” Devi said, rifling through one of the pockets on her jacket. “I want you to look at this.” She pulled out a small square that Jimmy recognized as a photograph.

The picture showed him with Johnny, several years ago, well before they’d met Edgar. Jimmy was being made fun of or generally abused in the picture, judging by his expression, but this was standard practice for nearly all pictures of Jimmy from around the time so it wasn’t terribly surprising. Johnny was making one of his all-knowing smirking faces while Jimmy looked surprised and sort of stupid.

“Soo…?” Jimmy asked, looking up at Devi. Devi nodded emphatically toward Kleine, who was brooding away on Jimmy’s broken couch.

Jimmy tried giving the photo to the poor girl, but Devi quickly vetoed it.

“Devi, I’m not good at this kind of…,” he trailed off when Devi walked over to Kleine and got her to remove her glasses and look at Jimmy. Devi widened her eyes pointedly, and gave a nod to the photo in Jimmy’s hand.

He held it up and away from his body, closed one eye, and matched it next to the girl’s face. Though yellowed and a little faded, he was looking at a cheerier version of her face in the photo. Or a more depressed looking version of Johnny’s sitting on his furniture.

“Oh. Holy shit, that’s weird,” he managed, lowering the photo. Devi returned the glasses she held in her hand and walked back over to stand beside Jimmy.  Kleine made a noise close to growling and stared bitterly through her new lenses at Jimmy’s floorboards.

“What did you do?” Jimmy asked when he was sure only Devi would hear.

“Do?”

“Is the picture altered or something, or is she…,” Jimmy hoped to not have to finish that sentence with more than some eyebrow and a hand gesture.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, you got further along than I did!” Devi made a face at his outburst, but let him keep talking.

“I just thought…,” he scratched the back of his head, trying to cover up feeling stupid. “Though I guess we’d have seen something, huh?”

“Yeah, genius. Thanks anyway. And here I was hoping I could get some intelligent thought out of you.”

“Hey, come on. You give me girl that looks like Nny, and you, who got to… It was a quick conclusion.”

In a rare flash, Devi looked like she was actually considering what Jimmy had said.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, “I’ll let that go. Still, it brings up other issues.”

“Did you ask Nny?”

“I… Not yet.” Devi looked around the room as though she’d never seen it before.

“I think he’d be saying something like, ‘ _Ask me instead of getting information from fucking Jimmy, because even though he stalks me, he doesn’t have a goddamn clue_ ,’ about now.”

“I’m more worried about it leaking to Edgar.”

“Who’s gonna notice, I think, what with that fucked up ‘living with Johnny’ thing he does.”

“I really hate these days of yours,” Devi muttered.

“Days?”

“When you’re right,” she sighed, took the photo back from Jimmy and pocketed it. “I’ll be back to get her tomorrow.”

“Um, that thing where I was right?” Jimmy called after her as she opened the door. “Are you ignoring it to spite me?”

“No,” Devi laughed. She stood on the concrete stairs outside his door. “Edgar just told me Johnny would hack all his flesh off if she came back before she was supposed to again.”

“Well, fuck,” Jimmy grinned, “I’ll take her back myself then.”

“And I’m sure your flesh will be next,” Devi called over her shoulder as she walked back toward her building.

“Eh, the risk might be worth it.”

He didn’t even think to ask where they’d found the glasses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squonk Opera’s ‘White Noise’ from “Put Your Hometown’s Name Here: The Opera” is intended for the section from Johnny POV in which ‘White Noise’ is mentioned as a concept. The lyrics are near unintelligible, so this is a ‘La Mer’ kind of move again in that I can’t post words the characters can’t understand.


	7. Games Without Frontiers

Edgar decided that there was little to gain from thinking too hard. He was fairly sure it was what had gotten him into the mess that had led up to Johnny’s temporary death, and he felt sure it was leading him down a similar path now. Thinking too hard in a universe where small children dropped into ditches from the sky and the Anti-Christ plotted to kill people at dramatically appropriate moments while feeding them cookies and information in the meantime just didn’t seem to be worth it. Unfortunately, it was a tough habit to break.

Lying on his bed, with blankets and sheets and pillows twisted around both of them, Edgar had Johnny beside him; curled around nothing and breathing oddly in his sleep. Some sheets and a pillow were tangled around Johnny’s ankle and he was using his own forearm instead of said pillow. Edgar often wondered why Johnny insisted on starting out every night in such a traditional manner as ‘head on pillow, body under blanket’ when he so infrequently met the morning that way. Johnny still didn’t particularly enjoy sleeping and frequently stayed up until Edgar dragged him, delirious and usually hungry, to bed.

When Johnny’s breathing evened out, Edgar felt comfortable enough to stare at the door that had just shown up weeks ago. They hadn’t opened it since Jimmy and Devi had seen it and remembered whatever it was that they were keeping to themselves. This was what Edgar had grown tired of thinking about, but his brain wouldn’t let him put it to rest. Not only had Jimmy and Devi remembered something that had burst from that room, but Johnny had too. And whatever it was, the man currently twisting the sheets tighter and tighter around his feet had plainly said he wasn’t interested in sharing.

Edgar remembered too. He remembered being released from a disturbed man’s house, leaving and finding his own house gone. The police couldn’t see him, and all roads had led back to the madman’s deteriorating shack. Resigned to the fact that he should have died anyway, and he was surely going to die if no one could see him, he had returned to the filthy house. That Johnny had been disappointed in Edgar.

“Thought you were smart enough not to come slithering back here.”

Some circular and smooth talking later and Edgar had been allowed back inside “for some cheese.”

Things continued in this slightly broken way for a time. Edgar remembered many instances of coming back to the house, and several times that he offered Freezies and movies in return for consideration for his life. One day, Johnny had joked with him upon opening the door and things relaxed after that. The person Edgar remembered and had been best friends with was the person who cracked that joke and was the same person who he begged to be able to make happy upon both of their deaths.

The same person lying next to him now.

The same person he had never once had feelings of love toward before this life started.

Whether his feelings were real in any way turned out to be as all-consuming as wondering what Johnny had remembered. Said feelings were deep, intense, and by this point, Edgar imagined, irreversible. He had few feelings he could compare them to, thinking that only ‘wish to continue breathing’ was close. He felt afraid that he’d just been given an extra store of potential feeling and he’d flooded the damn thing, or that the people upstairs had seen that he had the inclination to care and artificially amplified it to a level that would have been obsession if Edgar were the creepy type.

But it wasn’t obsession or stalker-y hero-worship, Edgar reasoned, gently touching Johnny’s hair when he flailed a little in his sleep. For the most part, the relationship was equal, so it wasn’t that Edgar was putting himself in a sick sort of serving position. Johnny loved him and viewed him as someone on the same level as himself. Edgar had had to glean this knowledge from context and from Johnny’s particular brand of ‘love by omission’ (“If I’m not running away, I still like you.”), but that Johnny loved him was certain. Abandoning Johnny logic and applying the type generally used by the rest of the population, they wouldn’t be in their current positions at all if Johnny didn’t feel something.

The core of Edgar’s feeling wasn’t sexual or predatory, either. An attraction was there, and Edgar even found Johnny to be kind of beautiful in the way he moved and how frightening he could be, but it was neither the reason all this had started nor why it continued. Edgar had just wanted to be close to someone he found amazing and fascinating and wished desperately to make that person happy.

_About the most innocent, sappy, white light and fluffy love that Heaven had to offer to all of its citizens who tried to do something good for someone else_ , Edgar thought bitterly. Part of him felt horrified that he’d just been bitter about being in love with Johnny and he pulled Johnny closer to him in an attempt to negate it. Johnny twitched and said something about bees before falling silent again.

Despite all these feelings, despite that Johnny often reported that he felt them when Edgar kissed him, Johnny was keeping what he had remembered from Edgar, and had not so much as brought the door up again after Stephanie had asked her last question about it. Keeping secrets? Trying to play the martyr and not share something painful? Edgar smiled at the thought of that being sort of in-character for Johnny, wondered if that was the right brand of selfish for him, and tried to see it in Johnny’s face.

It was hard to see anything but someone catching up on sleep he kept insisting he didn’t need. Johnny often fell asleep on Edgar in strange places and at stranger times, but they were the few times that Edgar was sure Johnny slept.  The act of actually going to bed always involved Edgar falling asleep first, and he felt almost certain that aside from a few instances like the one he was enjoying presently, Johnny did nothing like sleeping and just read or plotted things from his side of the mattress.

So there he was, sharing a bed with someone he carried a great amount of potentially artificial love for, and that person was blissfully carrying important secrets around with him and finding so few problems with keeping them that he was actually sleeping.

“Ow, what the fuck?”

Johnny’s voice startled Edgar, and he released what had been an ever increasingly tight hold on Johnny’s ribs.

“Sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah, you’ve probably punctured a lung, but I’m fine.” Johnny shifted his shoulders and tugged purposefully at some sheets he’d twisted beyond usefulness. He flailed around dramatically, getting stuck for a moment or two, but once he was through fussing with them, he settled back into his sleeping position as though he’d actually had a ‘degree of twisted’ preference and had satisfactorily adjusted it.

“Nny, do you ever think about that door?” Edgar asked. He knew it was coming from nowhere as far as Johnny would be concerned, but he thought maybe groggy was a good time to get Johnny to answer – he wouldn’t be thinking too far into the future.

“Mmm,” came the muffled reply.

“I- Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny repeated, lifting his head so he could be understood. Edgar had actually expected elaboration and waited for it to come, but when it didn’t, he wasn’t terribly surprised.

“You remembered something from it, didn’t you?” Edgar asked as casually as he might about the location of his keys.

“Yes.”

“I did, too. It’s been bothering me.” Edgar tightened his arms around Johnny again, hopefully as comfort and persuasion. “Can you tell me about what you remembered?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Johnny yawned. “I don’t want to.”

Edgar thought he should have seen this coming. There wasn’t a single noble motivation around the entire thing at all - just that Johnny didn’t want to share. No martyr, no cause, not protecting - just standard selfish Johnny.

“Fine,” Edgar answered, surprising even himself. Perhaps he was sleepier than he’d thought. “Then, at least, I want to tell you what _I_ remembered.”

“Okay. Wake me up when you’re done,” Johnny said, tucking a pillow under his elbow.

“Hey, I’m serious!” Edgar squeezed Johnny’s ribs to punctuate his outburst and the squeak Johnny let out didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

“I was joking, Edgar, jeez,” Johnny muttered, rubbing his side. “Tell me whatever stories you want. Put some rabbits in it or something, keep me awake.”

Edgar raised an eyebrow that he knew wouldn’t be seen and took a breath.

“I remembered things from how we used to be. From the life we lived before I asked for this one.” Johnny nodded against the sheet, eyes closed, and Edgar continued. “We were good friends. At least, as good as we could be when you were…”

“Fucking crazy,” Johnny supplied.

“All right, ‘fucking crazy’. Good. Anyway, I… I thought pretty well of you, you know? All things considered, anyway. But even when we died, even when I was asking for you to come with me and be happy and everything, I didn’t…,” he moved a hand from Johnny’s side to brush some hair out of his eyes, “I didn’t love you.”

“Okay,” Johnny replied, clearly waiting for more of the story.

“Thaaat’s it.”

“So?”

“So, I guess I’m worried. I came to this life knowing nothing but the exact same feelings I have now, and I have no idea where they came from, or what the reasoning is.” Edgar pressed his cheek against Johnny’s shoulder. “I think it might be fake.”

“Fake.”

Edgar was silent, trying to read Johnny’s tone, but without being able to see his expression, he was even harder to interpret than usual. Johnny picked Edgar’s arm off of him and turned over, firmly wiring his feet in the cluster of sheets at the base of the bed. He looked at Edgar, his face only inches away, and asked again.

“Fake?”

“It’s like I didn’t even have a choice. And it’s not that I’m not happy with the choice, because I am, and I don’t want to change it, but it’s not a choice I made myself. They just put it on there. Like I’m giving you something cheap.”

“No. It doesn’t work like that.”

“But I… I have never felt any different than I do now. Even when we first met and you pinned me to that damn beanbag, I felt the same then as I do right now.” Edgar tried to express how much this distressed him without accidentally hinting, falsely, that he wanted out of the whole thing. “I feel _more_ now if there’s any difference at all, but there’s never been a time when it wasn’t there.”

“You had a choice,” Johnny told him. He didn’t sound angry.

“How? You don’t get it, I-“

“You had a choice. I gave you plenty of choices.”

“But deciding to go be with you or whatever isn’t the same as developing feelings for you.”

“You had every fucking choice in the world, Edgar,” Johnny sounded a little groggy still, but more insistent. “I was cruel to you. I invaded your house and insulted you. I made you visible when you didn’t want to be and I sat and watched you while you were sitting in your own vomit. I compared you to _Jimmy_.” The tone on his last statement seemed to indicate he thought it to be the worst offense.  “And you came back every time.”

“I don’t know…”

“And you think those guys who couldn’t even come up with some lame parents for you could make you feel something that stood up to that? If anything, you decided to do it, and then they kicked it into gear.”

“But then it’s still-“

“Do you know what I remembered?” Johnny asked, sounding a little foggy.

“What?”

“I loved you first,” he said, winding his fingers into the sheets next to Edgar’s neck. “The me before loved the you before. They sent you here with all that because you asked to make him happy,” Johnny’s speech was faltering, “and he’s happy with it.”

“‘Is’? Present?”

“I remember being someone who wanted you to notice that he felt. I’m happy. He’s happy.” Johnny let go of the sheet and curled against Edgar. “You had plenty of choices.”

He said nothing else for the remainder of the night, except something in his sleep about ‘the god damned bees.’

****

Stephanie wasn’t sure she liked sleeping in Uncle Jimmy’s house. He was always super nice to her and told her she was the likely to be the ‘damn smartest kid in the whole town’, but his house was not as friendly at night.  She’d long ago gotten over wanting to sleep with someone, especially after Johnny had thrown a fit when she snuck in to sleep next to Edgar during her first week in his house. She was too old for that now anyway, but still, Jimmy’s house creaked and sounded like it would fall apart if the wind was too strong at night.

What she wanted were Johnny’s keys. Johnny could go anywhere when he had those, and if Stephanie had them, she could leave the house, and go to the school. She could stay in the old choir room and sleep in the beanbags. Edgar had told her that he used to sleep there when he and Johnny were younger. The idea was fascinating and alluring, as much as Stephanie loved having her own room, and her own bed.

Or almost her own. Lately, she didn’t feel terribly welcome. Everyone was making a fuss over being or not being parents, and how much she apparently looked like Johnny. Stephanie didn’t see the resemblance at all. Maybe they had similar skin and now they both had crazy hair, but they had to see how that wasn’t enough. She was a girl, for fuck’s sake.

Edgar normally asked her not to talk like that. Uncle Jimmy and Johnny always thought it was hilarious. She thought the word felt therapeutic, but always held it in for Edgar, even if she often caught him using the same word.

She sighed and looked around the room. Uncle Jimmy’s living room was always full of weird things, and his couch was a little lumpy but still comfortable. He had posters on his wall, most of them of his own band. He kept all the ones that showed him and Johnny in the front or close together. Stephanie knew how creepy even she found that, and Aunt Devi had mentioned it being really disturbing to her as well. Jimmy had said that at least he wasn’t lurking in windows anymore and the issue was quickly dropped.

In a way, though, she felt bad. Uncle Jimmy really wasn’t so bad. He was a bit dirtier than Edgar, in all sorts of ways, but so was Aunt Devi. Uncle Jimmy wanted something he couldn’t have, and Stephanie wondered if she had something in common with him on that level. Hers just wasn’t as creepy.

Edgar had kicked her out again. Because Johnny said so. Asked so. Demanded so. Johnny really could do everything.

She stared at the ceiling, part of which she thought had been repaired recently only because it looked cleaner than the rest, and wished she could see the sky. She wanted to sleep in the van again, to be everyone’s in the van again, and fall asleep watching the stars out the back window instead of the water stains on the ceiling. It was less comfortable physically than being in her own room, but on some kind of emotional level she was sure kids her age weren’t supposed to be pondering, the van was the most comfortable place in the world.

*****

Aunt Devi picked her up in the morning, leaving only after arguing about why she should be returning Stephanie rather than Uncle Jimmy. Stephanie didn’t understand what the fuss was about, but she found she didn’t care enough to try to find out.

Johnny answered the door to Edgar’s house and seemed surprised to see people there.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Nice to see you, too, Nny. Brought her back reasonably improved. You guys owe me for the glasses.”

They exchanged a look for a flash of a moment, and then laughed at something. Stephanie didn’t know what. She usually paid more attention than this, but felt like she wanted a closet to sit in for hours rather than pay attention to anything at all. She slipped by Johnny, who was still laughing over the weird something with Aunt Devi, and tried to sneak upstairs unseen. 

Edgar saw her anyway.

“Hey, those look pretty good!”

 The glasses. Everyone was making such a damn fuss about them one way or another that she was growing annoyed. She tore the glasses off and did her best glaring face in Edgar’s direction. He responded with an uncomfortable expression.

“Does this look like someone to you?” she asked angrily, pointing to her glasses-less face.

“It’s a convincing Pepito,” Edgar answered.

She made a frustrated noise and continued her way up the stairs, tripping over one part-way up. When Edgar made a move to help her, she scaled the stairs on all fours, calling that she’d meant to fall and she was fine.

*****

Devi had decided to stay, and was sitting in the living room enjoying some tea in a flavor that Edgar had forgotten he had.

“What’s wrong with her?” Edgar asked, nodding toward the stairs as he reentered the room.

“I’m not sure,” Devi answered, distracted by the smell of her tea.

“She seems so angry.” Edgar thought if he just kept supplying hints, perhaps Devi would cave in.

“I think she’s having some kind of identity crisis.” Devi took a long sip from the cup. Johnny sat nearby in the pink chair, but remained silent. It was just Edgar on the couch while Devi sat on a folding chair and it made him feel a little off balance.

“Identity crisis? She’s a little girl. If what Nny keeps telling me is true, she’s only been around a few months! What’s there to be worried about so early?”

“I think you just spelled it out,” Devi replied. “She came into being like the goddesses she reads about; just popped out of the sky one day.  She has no family, no parents, no friends, yet feels as old as she looks. And with how she looks, of course she’s going crazy.”

“I had no part in that haircut,” Edgar defended.

“That’s not what I mean,” Devi said quickly.

“You can’t say things like that and not tell me.”

“Does she look odd to you?” Devi asked, leaning forward in her chair, eyeing Edgar suspiciously.

“No, not at all! She asked me the same thing when she came in, what’s going on?”

“Okay, look,” Devi set down her teacup. “Let me say that it is not what it looks like, and that I might as well show you, because you’re going to see it anyway.” She glanced apologetically at Johnny, whose posture suddenly took on the air of bracing for something and took Edgar upstairs.

“You’ve got a picture of her by now, I imagine?” Devi asked as they climbed the stairs and rounded the corner into Edgar’s room.

“Um, yeah, right after we bleached her hair,” Edgar answered. He was still unsure what was happening, but went for the picture anyway.

“I thought you had nothing to do with the hair.”

“Mostly,” he said, holding the photo out for her to take. Devi glanced at it for only a moment, and then flipped the picture around in Edgar’s hand so that he was now looking at the image. In the same motion, she held up a picture he hadn’t seen before of a much younger Johnny with an uncomfortable looking Jimmy beside him.  Both photos hit him at once.

“Oh my god.”

“You see now?” Devi lowered her arm and pocketed the photo of Johnny quickly. “Now don’t freak out about it, okay? Like I said, it’s nothing like what it looks like even though it looks insane. I asked him about it and everything. It’s weird to him, but it’s nothing.”

“I think I’m concerned about how hard you’re trying to convince me of this,” Edgar muttered, staring at Devi’s pocket, the image on the photo burned into his memory. “I mean, if she’s not some weird sibling of his, then-”

“I’m trying because I know you’re going to analyze it to death, just like you did when Johnny – before.”

“I’ll be fine,” Edgar told her. He was fairly certain he was lying to her, but he wasn’t going to let on. It was a terrible suspicion, but Devi wasn’t going to get rid of it so easily. He’d try his luck with Johnny and hope he could read a lie if he heard one.

“Good, good,” Devi sighed, obviously relieved. “I’ll get going then, I just didn’t want you to freak out.”

“Of course not.”

When she shut the door, he wanted nothing more than to freak out.

*****

“I can’t believe you told him, Devi.”

“He was going to figure it out, he’s not retarded.”

“But you were so bitchy about getting her glasses that obstructed it, and now-”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to.”

“Just so we know it’s not my fault when he wigs out.”

“Fuck you, Tenna.”

****

Edgar rehearsed things in his head. He had weeks of action planned out from single point in time in a myriad of directions. This could all spiral down hill and, from his planning, he knew just what valley it would settle in. Similarly, it could be fine, and he knew just how to keep it up.

She looked like Johnny. Eerily so. Edgar thought that aside from the glasses and the lacking of a certain chromosome, she could _be_ Johnny. She was proving to be just as moody as Johnny and just as weird, if only more restrained about it.

He thought about the odds of such things momentarily, but remembered that the odds of anything that had happened to him since the whole Anti-Christ fiasco were painfully small.  It wasn’t likely, but it was possible.  Considering what Devi had told him when they went shopping with Stephanie, it seemed to line up. 

Johnny appeared oblivious, but Edgar knew better than to assume by this point.

“So those photos were pretty weird,” Edgar said, dropping onto a couch cushion.

“She showed you, too?”

“Yes. And she seemed awfully convinced she needed to steer me away from certain conclusions.”

Johnny turned his head to look at Edgar. His expression said he suspected exactly what Edgar was getting at, but he was still surprised by it. “You’re not even…”

“And if I am? What are the odds that we find some kid who looks just like you on the side of the road? And you, of all people in the van, are all, ‘ _Oh hey, guys, let’s keep her! It’ll be fun and I can totally handle this and not take any kind of responsibility for it because I’m Johnny and you all love me!_ ’ What is that?! That’s suspicious! That’s weird!”

“That’s _wrong_ ,” Johnny growled in response.

“And I’m thinking Devi, because with _those_ details, it’s like this all just lines up in a-!”

“ _Those_ details? _Lines up_?!” Johnny rose from his seat and stood in front of Edgar. “So, you somehow missed Devi getting gigantic; OR, some six years ago, this girl happened and we left her in a ditch where she miraculously survived for us to just stumble upon later?! What the fuck, Edgar?”

“Can you blame me? Have you seen? I-”

“Since this seems to what your logic is based in, let’s _look_ at her, hmm?” Johnny gestured toward the stairs, and Edgar’s heart jumped for a moment, thinking Stephanie was sitting there overhearing this whole thing. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen and Johnny appeared to be simply referencing the last place he’d seen her. 

“You _look_ and until a while ago, she was six. _Six._ Which would have made Devi _fourteen_ or something!” Edgar tried to protest, but Johnny continued, leaning onto the couch cushion to talk in Edgar’s face. “And even if she was really only a few hours old when we found her, guess where I was for those few hours?”

“I didn’t- It’s not like that’s impossib-”

“With _you._ ” Johnny looked disgusted. Had Johnny been anyone else, had his relationship with Edgar been any different, Edgar felt sure Johnny would have spit in his face.

“All right, all right, fine. It just… I didn’t think about the logic behind it quite enough. With the kinds of things that happen anymore, I didn’t even think it needed more thought than I gave it.” He had a hard time making eye contact. “I’m used to supernatural shit just dropping in on us, I thought - god, I thought phantom children were pretty routine.” Edgar tried not to laugh too hard, in case the situation was still serious, but let a trace of humor leak through.

Johnny moved from his previous threatening position and twisted into the cushion next to Edgar. “Devi told you?”

“She showed me the picture of you and Jimmy.”

“Not that.”

“Oh.” Edgar let out a breath, then shook his head. “That doesn’t bother me. It’s strange, but it’s not something I wouldn’t expect from you two.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow.

“Because it’s strange, I mean,” Edgar added. “Not… yeah, that didn’t come out right.”

“You’ve got quite a habit of doing that.”

“I think it’s just you that does it to me.”

“Why?”

“You’ve always made me act a little weird. It’s just you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Can I ask where _you_ think she’s from, then?”

Johnny sighed.  “That wouldn’t mean confirming it, you know.”

“I know, but you’d have a better idea than me.”

“Would I?”

“This is just your territory, you know?”

“Crazy shit? Maybe. But you know it just as well. Where do _you_ think she’s from, Edgar?”

Edgar’s turn to sigh.  “Pepito,” he answered reluctantly.

“That’s what I would have said,” Johnny replied, “had I not talked to Devi.”

“What?”

“Devi got the glasses from Pepito, but he doesn’t know where she’s from. He told Devi he got the glasses from ‘upstairs’.”

“What, she’s like a gift from the people who sent the book?”

Johnny shrugged, but didn’t say anything. Edgar continued to ask as though just asking the right question the right way would open up an answer.

“What’s there to watch now, though? You’re not slated to fall down dead at the drop of happiness anymore, and I’m not … are they watching _me_ for something now? Is it Hell watching?”

“You doing something worth watching?” Johnny asked jokingly.

Something pinged in Edgar’s chest.  Was visiting Tess something worth watching him for? She did have the potential to be some kind of agent from Hell, or even to be unknowingly connected to it like Johnny had been.  She also knew things about Johnny’s wall monster, or at least claimed to.

“I don’t think so,” Edgar lied, with a dismissive wave.  “It’s probably something dumb like putting my shoe on my left foot first or something.”

“Maybe Banshee is some kinda test for you.”

“Is there some reason no one up there is ever up front about this shit? ‘ _Hey, Edgar, we’re just gonna send you a small child that looks like Nny, issat cool?_ ’”

“‘ _Word_.’”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. The voice was for effect.”

Johnny crossed his arms and appeared to be concentrating intensely on the conversation.

“We also have no idea why she’s growing like she is,” he said.

“Maybe whoever sent her wants her to be big enough to _do_ whatever she was sent for.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that. So if we’re going for the ‘Banshee was sent to us instead of the book’ theory, maybe we can try to narrow it to ‘why’ if not ‘by who’.”  Johnny poked at a loose thread on Edgar’s shoulder as he as spoke.

“It wasn’t to see if I could teach a small child anything, since she came pre-equipped with that, and you’re clearly better at it, decent lessons or not.”

“I think I’d be really weirded out if they were testing to see how well you dealt with children, honestly.”

“What, you mean checking how I play out on the ‘Dad-O-Meter’ somewhere or something?”

Johnny made a face like he’d suddenly tasted something very bitter.

“Sorry,” Edgar said.

“You’ve figured that out by now, right?” Johnny rested the side of his head on Edgar’s arm and stared across the room into the fireplace.

“That Ban-,” Edgar shook his head, “Stephanie is starting to see me like that? Yeah, I get it.”

“And?”

“And what? What do I do?”  
  
“You decide how you’re going to respond to that. The earlier the better.”

“Preferences?”

“Do mine matter?”

“Of course they do.”

“I don’t think so. Not in this case.”

Edgar wished then that he had been recording everything and could share it with Tess. He’d report it to her later, of course, but along with every other positive thing Johnny had ever done, Tess wouldn’t even consider it possible, or she’d counter with four other ‘bad’ things Johnny had done to negate it.

“So why else, then?” Johnny asked. “Why send some weird kid to us specifically?”

“It’s sounding more plausible all the time that it’s just to fuck with us.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really. Pissed, yes. Surprised, not so much.”

“What I don’t understand, obviously by now, is why she looks like you.”

“Uh-huh.”  
  
“You do see it, don’t you? The resemblance?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“It makes me wonder if she’s supposed to be some kind of effigy for someone to burn later instead of me.”

“Why would people want to attack you?”

“Why not?”

“Then why wouldn’t they do it forwardly? Why make a little girl-shaped scapegoat instead? They were so okay with killing you before.”

“No idea.”

“She’s really not related to you?  Not some reincarnated niece or anything?”

“I can only remember what the last versions of me remembered.  They weren’t stable enough to process more than a few people at a time as far as I can figure.  If I had relatives – if _he_ had relatives, he didn’t know about them.”

“Can we ask her?”

“What, ‘Hey _Banshee, are you Johnny’s mystical twin sister from the past_ ’?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah, actually.”

Johnny laughed, but, as was becoming more common lately, the laugh wasn’t truly aimed at Edgar.

“Go ahead, if you want to risk throwing her into a blinding rage.”

“Why would she be angry?”

“ _I_ would be.”

Suddenly, all of Johnny’s comparisons of himself to Stephanie and back again made sense.

“She’s not- You don’t think she really is you, do you?”

“Banshee’s a girl, Edgar.”

“But I mean, some aspect of you?”

“It kind of pisses me off that I can’t write that off as total shit,” Johnny grumbled.

“So that’s weirdly plausible, then.”

“Anything we’ve said is plausible. She could turn out to be a hologram girl and in reality be a small pink poodle.”

“It just feels more solid when you think so too.”

Johnny made a frustrated noise and a motion that he stopped before Edgar could really say what it was going to be. 

“Jeez, would you stop with the – I am not the guru of fucked up knowledge, okay? You know exactly as much as I do about this girl, if not more. You experienced just as much crazy shit, what with the book and the me dying on you. You’re no less qualified.  Something about you deferring to me for all your rampant bat-shit speculation just – no.” Johnny concluded his mini outburst with an irritated puff of breath.

“I think I’ve just gotten used to it,” Edgar said, shrugging.  “For so long, your speculations were more valid than mine, since you’d been around the supernatural block a few more times.”

“You’ve caught up now. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been a while since you were the new guy. Even Jimmy doesn’t bitch about you like that anymore.”

“I think that I remember things more strongly from the last lives than the rest of you – and more normal things – keeps me feeling apart.  I remember when people didn’t play songs at me when I went out for groceries. I remember when I didn’t play songs at other people. You were already immersed in this, so your thoughts on Pepito just felt more logical.”

“Pepito and logical do not live in the same plane of existence.”

“Are we still going to talk to him soon?”

“Maybe to badger more about the glasses out of him,” Johnny offered, watching a dust ball drift over the floor near the couch.  “Though, in direct contrast to everything I just told you, I’d be more effective at talking to him.”

“Since he owes you for that whole Hell business.”

“Right.”

At that moment, something occurred to Edgar that he felt Johnny could not have overlooked. 

“Nny, do you ever think about your ‘dying early’ scheme?”

“Not nearly as often as you, apparently.”

“It’s a legitimate concern.”

Johnny shrugged, so Edgar continued.

“Did you ever think that by killing yourself, you’d be putting yourself into the same position that Pepito put you in?”

“Oh? How so?”

“I was led to believe suicides were something they sort of frowned on in the higher places.”

“You were led wrong.”

“You sure?”

“I was in charge of the damn place, wasn’t I?”

“So then what are you aiming for? Heaven?”

“I’m thinking I’d like to be some kind of time god,” Johnny said, reclining back into the couch as though demonstrating how he’d handle his throne.

“Because you can just decide that.”

“Of course I can.”

“I think we live in the wrong mythology for that.”

“Nonsense.”

“Johnny, seriously, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“Which is why I’m not dead yet, yeah.”

“Okay, okay, so assuming that this dying is really something you want to do, why did you even bother coming back?” 

Johnny looked surprised at the question, and for a moment, Edgar thought he’d have another great example of ‘my boyfriend is not a total asshole’ to report to Tess. The expression on Johnny’s face faltered and he appeared to be weighing his answers.

“It wasn’t my decision,” Johnny finally answered. “I didn’t decide when and where and who with or without, so it wasn’t good enough.”

“I think I almost heard a compliment in there.”

“I’d have to be a considerably worse human being than I already am to not let you be even a small deciding factor in the whole thing.”

“My god, I’m even a small factor now,” Edgar joked. “Please don’t strain yourself trying to say that I matter.”

“Keep it up and I throw myself on some knives in front of Banshee.”

“Do you want me to dull them on the driveway for you first?”

“Save me some trouble, yes.”

There was a short silence then. More ‘Oh, you _do_ care!’ humor just felt forced and Edgar thought that maybe he and Johnny would both appreciate the silence more than witty banter about impaling Johnny on kitchen utensils.

“I don’t think that you’ll ever really get it,” Johnny said after a moment.

“Get what?”

“You should talk to Banshee soon.”

“Wait, get what?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.  Let me know if you want to come along for the ride to Pepito’s later.”

On that note, Johnny strolled out of the room and took to the stairs.  Edgar heard a door close and tried to untangle Johnny’s last few sentences with only marginal success.

****

 

“Johnny likes me again, right?”

“He never stopped liking you, but yes.”

“That’s good. How come he didn’t kick me out?”

They stood together in the kitchen, Edgar trying to combine cans of random beans and the contents of the refrigerator while Stephanie fought with eating a raw square of ramen noodles.  

“He wants me to be happy,” Edgar said, fighting with their rusty can opener.

“Happy? You like having me here?”

“Of course I do.”

The can opener stuck a third of the way into the lid of the can.

“It makes you happy, really?”

“Yes, really.”

Stephanie suddenly seemed too full of energy, and looked as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. Several bits of her ramen broke off and scattered on the floor.

“Then… then why won’t you be my father?”

The can in Edgar’s can opener crashed into the sink.

“What?”

“You don’t want to. You like me, and I make you happy, but you don’t want me. You like Nny more and you want to send me to a fish market when I stop making you happy.” She spoke bitterly, stray bits of noodles spraying from her lips.

“Whoa, whoa.  I never said anything about any of this.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

Here was another weird trait of Stephanie’s that Edgar was sure could be blamed on Johnny. Why were all of his most important conversations dragged out of him by other people?

“You have to understand there is a lot more to relating one person to another than just saying it. I know you-”

“Did you do something special to be with Nny? Some special dance or something?”

“Not exactly, but-”

“What’s the difference?!”

Introducing his face to the water in the sink began looking quite appealing to Edgar the more Stephanie protested.

“There’s a considerably larger commitment involved in being someone’s father than someone’s lover,” he managed.

“People commit to each other! It’s in wedding rituals all over the world!”

“Banshee, I’m not married!”

They were silent then, staring at each other.   Stephanie, who Edgar had inexplicably called ‘Banshee’, looked about to cry.  When Edgar twitched his arm to apologize for something he couldn’t explain, the girl turned and ran from the room.

“I’m really starting to hate being abandoned in the damn kitchen,” Edgar said to no one.

****

“Nny, why is Edgar here?”

“Say what?”

The commercials ended and the mindless television show that had been placed around them resumed.  Banshee had herself buried in a cushion to Johnny’s left and hadn’t touched much of her macaroni.

“He’s here because he likes you, right?”

“He’s here because he lives here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because _I_ live here?”

“No!” she yelled, throwing the cushion she’d burrowed under to the floor.  “No, that’s not what I mean!”

“Then say what you mean and don’t throw shit!”

“You know what I mean!”

“No I fucking don’t! I don’t read goddamn minds!”

“Yes you do!” she shrieked, jumping to her feet. “Edgar says you do!”

“He’s exaggerating! Now quit screaming or you’re living with Jimmy!”

“FINE!”

With that, she stomped out of the room and up to her room, where she made an attempt at a threatening door slam. A few moments later, Johnny felt Edgar standing beside the couch.

“What the hell were you two doing?”

“Talking,” Johnny answered.

****

Stephanie made no mention of the prior argument when she showed up for dinner, and Johnny said nothing of it either.  Edgar kept waiting for the inevitable backlash of ‘he said, she said’, but nothing happened.

When she finished her food, Stephanie shuffled back to her room without a word.

“She’s so angry at everything lately,” Edgar said, staring up at the stairs after her.

“Well, if she’s my space clone twin, she comes by it honestly.” Johnny had reassumed his spot on the couch and was gazing blankly at the television.

“What did you say to her before?”

“Why is it automatically my fault that she’s pissed?”

“It wasn’t?” Edgar asked honestly.

“No. She just exploded all on her own.”

“What about?”

“Something about why I’m here or whatever. She was angry that I couldn’t read her mind because _you_ told her I could.”

Edgar flinched. “I did?”

“S’what she said.”

“I’m sure I thought she’d pick up on a joke when she heard one.”

“It’s Banshee,” Johnny muttered, shrugging, “the wonders never cease.”

“She seems to think I hate her because I’m not her dad.”

“That’s unique.”

“Or that you live here, something like that.”  He dropped onto the cushion Stephanie had thrown earlier now that it was back on the furniture. “Her issues are getting too weird for me to keep up with.”

“Just wait till she’s sixteen,” Johnny replied, flipping mindlessly through channels. “Do you remember how spastic everyone was at sixteen?”

“Think we’ll have her that long?”

“Edgar, at the rate she’s going, that’ll be by Thursday.”

“I’m just not sure I’ll be able to handle the next thing she throws at me.”

“What, you mean the whole damn sofa next time?”

****

Stephanie calmed down by sometime the next afternoon, though still nothing was said of her outburst.  Instead, she tailed Edgar around the house quizzing him on various aspects of his life.  She was particularly relentless when Edgar focused on the sticky keys on his old keyboard.

“Why doesn’t anyone like Uncle Jimmy?” Stephanie asked, repeatedly poking the very highest note.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

“That’s not true,” Edgar answered, trying to check for crumbs. “I like him just fine.”

“You’re not everyone.”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

“Everyone else likes him too.”

“Nny doesn’t.”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

“Yes he does.”

“Does he do that to everyone he likes?”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

“Pretty much.”

“Even you?”

Plink. Plink.

“I don’t know.”

“Edgar, why aren’t you married?”

Plink.

“Because I’m not.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Stephanie said.

“Why not?” Edgar sat away from the keys to look at Stephanie directly.  
  
“Because you live here! Because you love Nny! Don’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Oh, wow, no, wait,” she said, her voice suddenly calm and thoughtful. “No wonder you don’t want to be my father. That’d be all out of order.”  She nodded to herself as though this explained everything.

“Stephanie, I think maybe we need to have you reading something else.”

“Banshee.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve decided.  I’m going to be Banshee.”

“Oh, okay. Not just Johnny calling you that now, then?”

“Yeah, everyone is going to. It’s official.”

There was probably a lesson in how she could say ‘this is my name’ and it was so, but couldn’t say ‘you are my father’ and get the same result, Edgar just didn’t know where.

“So when are you going to?” Banshee asked.

“To get married? I’m not.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m _not_ ,” Edgar replied firmly. “It’s not the end of the world, and it doesn’t mean anything for you, I promise. And even if I did, you know it wouldn’t change how Johnny relates to you, right?”

“I guess so. I just thought everyone did that at some point.”

“No, not everyone. Some people do fine without all the fuss and institution.”

“You’re just scared you’d have to wear the dress,” Banshee joked.

Edgar proudly maintained that he was bigger than Johnny and thus was exempt of dress duty, even when Banshee pointed out that Johnny could slip out of everything.  When Johnny walked by a few moments later, he demanded to know why Banshee and Edgar were laughing at him, but only got the words ‘satin and lace’ as an answer.

*****

Edgar never would have picked the smoky café as a meeting place, but it was Tess’ turn to choose and she claimed the hazy place was one of her favorites despite that it mostly sold coffee that neither of them ever ordered.  The food was fine, from what Edgar could tell, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he was eating the yellow tobacco color on the walls every time he had a sandwich there.

Tess had come this time with what she called ‘visual aids’.  According to her story, she’d been stopped earlier in the week by a canvassing rep for a battered women’s shelter who had handed her some cards to help her determine if she was in an abusive relationship.  After checking them over, Tess decided they’d be perfect for Edgar and brought them to lunch. The gesture was almost thoughtful, but mostly creepy.

The first card depicted ‘Mr. Right’, a smiling green figure, and all his prominent features listed in a long column at his side.  The list included ‘cheerful’, ‘supportive’ ‘does his share of the housework’ and ‘is a responsible and equal parent.’ 

“Tess, I think I feel a little insulted.”  Edgar held the card at a distance, as though it were covered in something he was afraid to drip on his shirt.

“Bear with me and turn it over,” she said.

Edgar did as she asked and was greeted with the bright red frowning face of ‘Mr. Wrong’ who had such glowing characteristics as, ‘shouts’, ‘sulks’, ‘glares’, ‘smashes things’, ‘won’t admit he is wrong’, and ‘never does his share of the housework.’  If they didn’t have the stamp of a local shelter on the bottom, Edgar would have suspected Tess of writing the card herself. Mr.Wrong _did_ look like his hair had been scribbled on with a blue crayon.

“ _Tess_.”

“It just sounded familiar to me,” she said dismissively. “You can keep it and think about it.”

“Sure,” Edgar said, pocketing the cards. “Can you tell me something, though?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you still doing this?”

“Because he’s-”

“For real.”

“ _For real_.”

“Yes.”

“Because I want to.”

“You want to break us up?” Edgar offered, leaning over his plate.

“Not in those words, exactly.”

“Tess, Stephanie asked me why I wasn’t married yesterday.”

“Oh? What did you tell her?”

“That I’m just not.”

“So…” Tess pulled her cup of tea close to her chest in what almost looked like self defense.

“So why is it that Banshee thinks I should be getting married, and you think I should be running as far away as my legs can carry me?”

“She’s a little girl?”

“If it wouldn’t eat Johnny’s brain, I think I’d like you two to switch places sometime, just so you could see.”

“Eat his brain, huh?” Tess’ expression betrayed a hint of a smirk.

In that second, Edgar realized he’d gotten a little too comfortable.

“Figuratively speaking,” Edgar said quickly, “Unless you got into cannibalism since I last saw you?”

“I don’t think so,” Tess said, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “We can check though; gimme your arm.”

“Because I’ll just hand it over.”

“A hand would be fine too.”

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“Indeed you did.” She grinned and set her tea back on the table.

As nice as joking was instead of arguing, something felt off and Edgar decided that he needed to start cashing in on his part of this odd deal-turned-friendship should something go from just feeling weird to actually being weird.

“Tess, can I give you a phone number?” he asked, though he was already writing it down on an extra napkin. Tess, thankfully, was used to abrupt transitions.

“I already have your- oh. Devi?” 

“Yeah. I’ll let her know you’ll be calling.” He held the napkin out and shook it once to encourage her to take it. She accepted it slowly and looked at the number for a long time. 

“Is she going to convince me?” Tess asked.

“I don’t know what she’s going to do. It just seems like a good idea.”

“Maybe one of these days,” Tess said slowly, “I’ll talk to Johnny himself.”

The expression on her face scared Edgar for a moment, and he hoped he imagined it.

“Can you tell me more about your issue with him?”

Tess laughed and settled more comfortably into her seat, flailing her spoon dramatically.

“Edgar, you usually come here looking to get away from that.”

“Then let me rephrase it: What do you remember about him?”

“He killed my asshole boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I know that, and we’ve both said it was a good call, but what else was there?”

Tess sighed, and hugged her arms to herself for a moment.  The grey linoleum floors held her attention for several seconds before she took a breath to answer.

“He was loose.  Something was not good in there.”  She poked her temple to illustrate ‘there.’

“I know that already.  And I know that you came after me because you think he’s attacking me or something. But he didn’t kill you – the thing that’s after him did.  Why does that make him your target?”

“It wasn’t killing him, exactly.”

“You know something else about it?” Edgar leaned across the table and tried to establish a firm eye contact. “You agreed to help with that, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He was a destructive and horrible person.  Brilliant in there somewhere, I bet, or at least not retarded, but really fucked up.  I think he’d need to go through five or six reincarnations to ever filter all that out.”

“That’s not your job to police.”

“But he’s famous now, and even though I was victim of the same damn system, Edgar, I was invisible _even to you_!” She looked pained when she gestured toward him.

“That’s it? You just want to be famous?” He had a sudden bitter taste in mouth unrelated to his hot chocolate.

“No! He was-!”  She let her head fall into her hands and mumbled to herself. “You’re not going to understand it anyway.”

“Why focus on me?” Edgar asked quietly. “Haven’t you seen Jimmy?”

“Jimmy isn’t quite as involved.”

“He’s still fostering a giant crush slash lust thing on Johnny, even though Johnny is awful to him. How could that not spark some kind of red flag to you? That’s not ‘involved?’”

“Jimmy doesn’t share a house with someone who is awful to him.”

“Johnny isn’t awful to me.”

“You want to know?” Tess asked softly, eyeing her reflection on the table between them.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

A long, deep breath. 

“It’s you,” Tess said, attempting eye contact.

“Me?”

“It didn’t start out that way, for sure.” She brushed some hair aside, despite it being too short to bother her eyes, and tried to laugh, but she sounded strained.  “At first, it was justice, and then just a rescue, but the longer I watched you…”

“Oh.  So all this lunch stuff…?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like wish-fulfillment dates or anything.”

“Tess, I’m flattered, but, it really can’t - I’m sorry.” 

Suddenly, Edgar was faced with a confession from a woman he shouldn’t have even been seeing at all, let alone as often as he did.

Tess flailed her hands to get something across, but she never managed a full sentence. “…tricking you…”

“I wish you would stop saying that,” Edgar sighed. “For all that you’ve told me you care about me and are worried for me, challenging the thing that really makes me happy doesn’t exactly speak for that claim.”

“It isn’t fair.” Tess talked mostly to Edgar’s knee or the sticky floor of the coffee shop. “This isn’t right.”

“I’m not even sure how right it is, okay? But it’s what I wanted, I swear.” Edgar tried to get her attention, or get her to look at him, but she seemed determined never to look him in the eye again.  “I cared about him before I knew who he was. I liked him before he said a single word to me.”

“That’s highschooler talk, Edgar.”

“I _was_ a highschooler.” He sighed and then tried to clarify. “He’s not poisoning my mind, I promise. I really am happy with him and I want things, mostly, the way they are.”

“He’d never know, you know, if you tried something else once.”

“You suggest that again, and I’m leaving,” Edgar threatened, gripping his cup of hot chocolate. “I’d never do that.”

“Sweet to a fucking fault,” Tess muttered. “How is it that I finally managed to pick one that’s not an asshole and he’s taken _and_ gay?”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Edgar, I’m afraid ‘Johnny’ tends to be a man’s name. Hate to break it to you.”

Edgar put his elbows on the table between them and held his head in his hands, trying to will into existence both a clear way to express what he meant and a resistance to slamming his head on the tabletop.

“Look,” he said, gesturing emphatically with his hands, “I’m not- It’s just Nny. That’s it. The cashier kid is not attractive to me, and neither is that guy in the business suit. It’s the person, not-”

“And the women?” Tess cut him off. Edgar opened his mouth to counter, when he realized he didn’t really know what the answer was. He tried to evaluate the ones in the coffee shop honestly, from the college girl wearing a giant pink bow and a hoodie to the business woman in dangerous looking shoes and the skirt that shared a little too much with the audience.

“You know,” Edgar answered slowly, “I don’t think there’s anything there at all.”

“No one in here is pretty to you?”

“It’s not ‘pretty.’ That’s different than attraction. There are plenty of ‘pretty’ people around.” He regarded the people around him once again. “These people… none of them feel anything even close to how Johnny feels to me.  I think perhaps I’m defining attraction differently than you are.”

“Not the ‘throw ‘em on the floor and get down to it’ type, huh?”

“Not so much.”

Tess sighed, and stirred her tea, though it had long since dissolved the sugar she’d put in it when it arrived.  “Looks like it’s going to be battle to the death, Edgar.”

Edgar nearly choked on hot chocolate and coughed a few times before he was able to respond, “E-excuse me?”

“You either have to convince me, or I have to convince you,” she said, gesturing with her spoon. “There’s nothing either of us can say that would convince the other, so we need some other way.”

“I don’t know why you’ll see me as sincere in everything I say, but then as soon as it’s Johnny I’m talking about, I’m spouting the dirty water from my brainwashing.”

“It’s just…” She tapped the cup of tea with her spoon, thinking. “I remember someone who can’t possibly have the capacity to feel anything like what you’re saying you do. There’s no way he feels like you do.”

“I never said he did,” Edgar answered, shrugging. “I think I’d be disturbed if Johnny felt as intensely as I do. You’re right in a way, really; it’s not like him.”

“Then, why all the devotion? You’re comfortable with knowing it’s unequal?”

“I don’t see it that way, but I _am_ comfortable. He’s the sort of person you run into once and then always. He doesn’t let go of people. Or people don’t let go of _him_ , I guess.”

“This doesn’t sound like brainwashing to you?” Tess leaned back in her seat, looking over her glasses and the rim of her teacup.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s not his fault he’s so … whatever it is. Devi and Jimmy had the same thing happen to them, I just got a bit luckier.”

“Depending on your view.”

“Oh, woe is _me_ ,” Edgar mocked, “I got absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted! Quick, cut my wrists _for_ me, I’m far too depressed to do it myself.”

“You even sound like him,” Tess said into her tea.

“He’s my best friend - of course there’s going to be some linguistic overlap when I live with him.”

“Best friends who make out on the couch?”

“Well, of course it’s not – Wait, what?”  Tess suddenly had an intense interest in the bottom of her teacup and tried to hide her entire face while downing the drink. “Tess? I think maybe that level of stalker is passing the funny and ironic level and is actually freaking me out.”

“I didn’t see anything. Much. I didn’t see much.”

“So you – okay, so you can see things like that, _even ‘not much’_ , and not be convinced of sincerity on my part? How can you see Johnny - who you have to know isn’t terribly into touch - and think he’d fake all that to keep _me_ around when he could have Jimmy with no effort at all?”

Tess bit her lip and the word ‘envy’ flashed through Edgar’s mind.

“So that’s it, then?” Edgar slouched in his seat and almost felt his eyes glaze over. “This is all because you’re jealous.”

“No! No, it’s not like that!”

Edgar winced.

“If you say so, fine. We’ll leave it at that for now. Instead, tell me what you know about the thing that’s still after him.” Edgar wasn’t sure he believed her, but so far, their meetings had included almost nothing of the thing that was after Johnny. Since finding out about it was why he had agreed to meet Tess in the first place, Edgar felt it was about time he began benefiting from the relationship even if it meant giving up on changing Tess’ mind or figuring her out.

“It used to live in his house and it reset absolutely everything when it got out.”

“Which it’s not doing now.”

“It can’t quite do that yet.”

A sudden wave of unease washed over Edgar and if not for the hot mug, he would have shivered.

“How do you know, when you only met it before-?”

“Maybe that isn’t the only time I have.”

Edgar attempted to bury his fingers in the mug and tried to come up with an appropriate response, but nothing happened.

“I don’t think I can quite do this right now,” Tess said quickly, rising to her feet.  “Later, I promise.” 

She left the restaurant in a flurry leaving Edgar to field the glances of the waitresses and old women who all seemed to think he’d just been dramatically dumped.

****

Edgar wasn’t even sure how to eat pomegranate once he had a hold of one, but he’d been reading so much about them in the myths he’d been going over to keep up with Johnny and Banshee that he started to wonder how they could be good enough that you’d eat one even under threat of staying dead. 

That, and it provided a welcome distraction from worrying about Tess, which had been consuming more and more of his time since her dramatic exit from the café.

It was purchased on a whim when he was sent on an emergency run to get a can of soup.  There was a giant bin of them in the front of the store with a ‘how to eat pomegranate!’ sign hanging above them. After he was unable to shake ‘how to eat the fruit of the damned!’ from his head, he caved and bought one.

He almost forgot the can of soup.  
   
He hadn’t even been able to cut it open before Banshee, who had been eating a sandwich behind him, pounced on the counter and tried to tear the fruit from Edgar’s hands.

“Stephanie, what are you doing?!” He still wasn’t used to the nickname enough for it to come out automatically.

“Don’t eat it, don’t eat it!” Though Edgar was holding her back with his arm, she still flailed desperately for the fruit in his other hand.

“It’s just a pomegranate!”

“I know! I don’t want a sister!”

“WHAT?”

“That’s what happens when you eat those! Don’t do it! That’ll be all out of order!”

“You can’t get pregnant from food!”

“Yuh-huh! It happens all the time!” Banshee was still insistent, and though she was trying a little less to grab the fruit in Edgar’s hand, she was still eyeing it as though Edgar just holding it was threatening to make her into an older sibling.

“Okay, even if- Ste-Banshee, come on. Get off the counter.”

The girl dropped to the floor, her too-long pant legs gathering around her ankles. She still appeared wary of the pomegranate and glared at it.

“Okay, look,” Edgar said, holding the offending fruit beyond Banshee’s reach, “even if fruit could somehow make people pregnant, I’d have to be a woman for that to work.”

“What about Zeus?” Banshee challenged.

“Wasn’t that a fly?”

“But she still grew! And then Athena just popped right out of him!” Banshee made wild flailing motions to emphasize ‘popping.’

Edgar winced.

“It doesn’t work that way. Those stories are very old – from before people knew how these things really worked. People don’t happen like that.”

“Then where did I come from?” She crossed her arms and glared a challenge at Edgar over the top of her glasses.

“We don’t know.”

“Then you don’t know! I coulda come from Nny’s forehead!”

“Whoa, hang on.”

“Or from Uncle Jimmy’s leg!”

“Wait-”

“Or maybe Aunt Devi cut off Uncle Jimmy’s bits and threw them in a ditch and then when it rained, I came out of-”

“That’s enough!”

Banshee stuck her lower lip out in protest, but said nothing.

“Look,” Edgar said once more, holding the pomegranate at Banshee’s eye level, “you didn’t come from a pomegranate.”

“How do you _know_?”

Edgar sighed.

“I’ve never had one before.”

****

Something was wrong with his head lately. 

It wasn’t his normal ‘wrong,’ which bothered him more than he had told anyone.  There were things in there that hadn’t been before and he feared he didn’t have room for everything. Would he be pushed out in favor of the new stuff?

Johnny observed the world around him with a detachment that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was similar to what he felt while walking the town as a dead man, but not exactly.  It was equally like what it had felt like to remember things in the closet, but again, it wasn’t a precise match. 

Still, people moved around him on autopilot with no decisions of their own, only serving whatever need owned them at the time. Had to eat, had to sleep, had to smoke, had to bathe, had to piss or vomit or fuck something or pay the bills.  He watched them as though he’d never seen them before.  There were few people left that looked at him that way.

The more of his old self that crept into him, the more he felt this kind of detachment was familiar.  It was this kind of distant underwater camera view of the world that he had seen the others through.  The blurry, filthy lens he’d decided to kill through, and the one he spared Edgar under.  He’d planned to keep Edgar alive as long as it took for Edgar to really see, and then Edgar would die the way he was supposed to at their first meeting.  Things were reset before Johnny got the chance, and now he and Edgar were stuck in some life, some kind of loop, that his prior incarnation would have recoiled from.

Still recoiled from.  Parts of Johnny shuddered and shrank from the affections of the people he lived with, his chest tightening on itself to the point that he hoped it would just have mercy on him and implode.   When he slept at night, the oldest parts of him demanded everything be as far from him as possible and demanded to be saved from sleeping in the first place. He wanted freedom and grounding at the same time and the pull in both directions tore at the current Johnny, who required neither. The person he’d been didn’t like the person he’d become and seemed to have decided to move in.

“Are you okay?”  Edgar was concerned. Justified.

“Fine.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t either.”  It had gotten harder to lie to Edgar lately.  This seemed to bother Edgar more than the lies ever had.

“You’ve been acting sort of weird; I just wanted to see if I could help.  With Ste-Banshee acting like she is, I don’t want to be the only one holding on to my head around here.”

“That sounds really selfish of you.”  Maybe only half of it did, but still.

“I was just trying to lighten it.”

“My head hurts.”

“Did you take something?”

“It won’t help.”  Something about taking medication for an ache you know the cause of seemed dumb.  When it was a vague ache in the side, in the back, fine. When you stab yourself in the arm, no. When your old persona is eating your brain, no.

“Are you sure? What about some tea or something? I found some weird flavors when Devi was over.”  Edgar tried hard to be convincing, or comforting, or tangible.  Except he didn’t have to work to be tangible, so he wasn’t trying to have weight or mass, he was just – shut up.

“I won’t argue if you want to make some.”

“I’ll be back,” Edgar said, brushing Johnny’s shoulder. It was likely an unconscious motion on Edgar’s part, but Johnny’s skin both shriveled from and tried to reach out to meet Edgar’s fingers. He began to wonder if he was even in his own skin anymore.

The cup burned him on purpose.

“Nny,” Edgar began, watching the steam from his own cup thoughtfully, “you know that woman, the one who visited the show before you died? She’s-”

“Where you disappear to.”  He wasn’t stupid. Come on, Edgar.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew. I don’t think I’m comfortable pretending to hide it anymore.”

“You were comfortable with that once?” What a disgusting thing to say. Johnny let out a small puff of air to stand in for a laugh anyway.

“Eh, maybe that was a bad word choice.”

“So you’re talking to the woman who destroys my brain on a regular basis?” The tea was still burning him. He was bigger than the tea, it would see.

“I guess so. Thing is, she knows about that thing that chased us out of the motel.”

“I bet she _is_ it.”

“Nny.”

“Do _you_ have any comparisons to make, hmm?”

“No, but she’s just a woman, really.” Edgar reclined back against the headboard. “She’s a little confused, but there’s nothing magical about her.”

“Would you have said that about us?”

“Us?”

“All of us. Me, Jimmy, Devi.”

“I think I would have, really. You, at least, felt sort of like something a little bit more than human.”

“So you don’t know. She _isn’t_ just a woman. There’s something wrong with her.”  He knew because he felt it when the columns of his rational thought collapsed all those times he saw her.  Because no one else did that to him but Edgar, and Edgar did it unknowingly and differently.

“I’d like to keep talking to her. See what she is, if not what she knows.”

“I’m not stopping you. This tea is fucking hot.”

“So put it down.”

“We’ll see.”  He held a few fingers away from the ceramic mug, revealing ‘World’s Best Secretary’ printed on the side of it. “So what has she told you so far?”

“That you’re bad for me, mostly.”

“I mean about the thing in the wall.”

Johnny felt Edgar falter, felt him grow unsure.  Either going to lie or confess.

“Nothing yet.”

Confess.

“And you think she’s telling the truth?” Johnny asked honestly.  He would never get close enough to Tess to know, so he had to rely on Edgar to judge.

“I have no reason to believe she isn’t,” Edgar said, taking a sip of the tea he’d made for himself. “She really does care about what happens to me, and I think she took our deal pretty seriously.”

“You’re bargaining with people now? What have I done to you?”

“It’s something that’s after you. I’d bargain with my soul if I had to.” Edgar shrugged and poked at his tea. “We just agreed to do something for each other, that’s all.”

“If I were the jealous type-”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“If you say so. Either way, don’t worry about it.  She’s apparently interested, but I told her there’s no chance.”

“Not even if I started really beating you?” The tea lost.

“You wouldn’t.”   Johnny had killed him once, and yet Edgar was so sure that Johnny wouldn’t do even as much as abuse him a little.

“What would it take?”

“For you to beat me or for me to be driven dramatically into Tess’ arms?”  
  
“Whichever.”

“I guess you’d have to become what you used to be.”

“I was your bestest friend then, in case you forgot your mission, Mr. Happiness.”

Edgar laughed, then looked up at Johnny from his tea.  “I guess maybe the one before that, then. The one that killed me.”

“Then it would hardly matter.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I don’t actually _want_ to be killed, no.”

“I mean that that’s what it would take. If I attacked you -”

“I’d assume you’d been possessed.”

“And I’d hope you’d get the hell out anyway. I don’t really care what you were sent to do, or if you’re programmed to love the hell out of me or whatever.  Being the company punching bag isn’t an enviable position.”

“As Jimmy would surely know.”

“I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

“Whoa, wait. Are we back to Tess?” Edgar coughed on his tea.

“That time with the phone. When you tried to go see her. She has to know what she’s doing.”

“I was a little worried about that. The last time I spoke to her, she gave me this look and I thought, ‘Do I need to be scared of her?’”

“Not a good sign.”

“I guess not. But if she’s the only one who knows…”

“I think I’d rather that thing eat me than ever have her in contact with me again. Maybe better if you don’t either.”

“Then how will we find out what that thing is?”

“Pepito?”

“He’s your answer to everything.”

“Why not?”

Edgar sighed. “Maybe if you saw her again. Maybe whatever she inspires in your brain will give you what you need and we can just never talk to her again.”

The idea was terrifying, even though Johnny imagined that he’d grab Tess’ arm and suck the knowledge right out of her, leaving her hollow. He knew he’d likely end up in a fetal position on the floor instead, but the victory idea lingered. 

“It would be easier to be okay with trying that if I knew what she was doing to me and what the door was doing to me. As it is now, I think… I think it would break me.”

“It was just a suggestion. I can talk to her just fine.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The door is still bothering you?”

“It’s not like it pokes me in the night or anything, but it’s very… present.”

“Have you opened it again?”

“Maybe.”  He was getting bad at lying. The idea scared him.

“What happened?”

“I remembered, mostly.”

“Is it bad stuff, or what?”

“No, it’s all kind of neutral, really.”

“Can we try it again?”

“Why ask me? Do it yourself.”

“I feel better if it’s both of us.”

“Do what you want, I don’t care. Just let me put the tea down.”   Don’t think you’ve won, tea.

Edgar opened the closet again.  Johnny hadn’t expected Edgar to want anything to do with it after his problem with being reincarnated with too much feeling.  He had expected even less that Edgar would open it the moment Johnny was away from the cup of tea. 

The now familiar feeling of being engulfed in something that almost made sense washed over him. 

It was madness and that was comforting when nothing else was.  Edgar had freeze pops and television magazines with him this week. When he offered them to Johnny, when he reached out, he thought this would do it, this would be it.  It never was.  He kept waiting and Edgar kept not seeing. 

_“it’s a knockout_

_if looks could kill_   
_they probably will”_

Too close and he shrunk away in disgust, too far and he grew angry that he was being ignored. Too close and it was grounding, too far and things fell apart.

Edgar brought movies and snacks. He knew places that were open late on the other side of town, and he knew an old lady whose yard was the best spot in the city for watching fireworks, band performances, football games and other public events in the school’s field with the potential to at least injure someone.

He still wouldn’t see. Edgar still saw nothing, still did not understand. There was so much and it was so obvious and profound and so _there_ , so why didn’t he see it?  It sat in front of everything Johnny did, his actions filtered through it and yet Edgar was blind to whatever color it turned things. 

Where it was heading he didn’t know.  He could do something as soon as Edgar knew, but he was so fuzzy on what he would do when Edgar knew something that Johnny himself was not very clear on.

Not too close, not too far.

Passenger seat of the car, opposite side of the couch. Close enough to share headphones and have his skin want to crawl off as a response. Actually get glasses for the milk because they weren’t sharing the carton.  One of them would fall asleep and then someone would have to know, surely. 

But it never cleared up when eyes opened again. It was worse then. Voices still whistled at him and he was still unsure who had made them. Edgar still smiled and saw nothing and was still such a curious thing.  A curious thing that was still there, still bringing snacks and food because he had nothing else and nowhere else. 

Once, a fireworks display took the hand of one of the guys operating and he had laughed while Edgar looked uncomfortable and people in the bleachers near the accident were set ablaze.  When the newspaper headline announced ‘Man Loses Hand In Firework Mishap That Kills Ten’, Edgar laughed and said it was the concept that was funny, not the event.  Johnny didn’t understand why the event did not include the concept.

He didn’t remember when it happened, or how.

They hadn’t died badly.

“ _if looks could kill_  
 _they probably will”_

He hadn’t died in Edgar’s arms, but the backfire from death put him there. The bedroom wasn’t decaying.

“Johnny, are you okay?” Concerned. Justified.

“Yeah.” He shook his head several times, trying to clear his mind. “I’m fine.”

“I could see so much more clearly this time,” Edgar said, staring into the room in front of them. “I saw for two people. I saw that he didn’t see what you were doing. He didn’t see you feeling like that.”

“Told you it was me first.”

“It feels like I dreamed it and it scares me knowing I didn’t.”

“No kidding.”

“It’s sort of sad. I’m sure that if he could have seen, he would have done something about it.”

“And then died for it,” Johnny said, sliding out of Edgar’s grasp and bracing himself on the bed.

“Died for it?”

“I forgot to tell you that part? That was the plan for Devi, too.”

“Oh.”

“If you want to be poetic about it, you can pretend it was self-sabotage that I was never obvious enough and I didn’t really want to kill you after all. In truth, I – or he, I guess – had no idea what he felt at all. You – he? – might have lived.”

“I guess it’s good I never noticed, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Johnny wanted to make some kind of remark about Edgar’s sentimentality, or joke about something, but he couldn’t conjure the energy to make it happen. When he felt his limbs among blankets he stopped feeling at all, at least for a while. He hadn’t slept in a long time, at least not properly.

Edgar talked to him while he slept and in his dreams he drained Tess dry after telling her she’d never take Edgar with all those tentacles spilling from her neck. 

He was the jealous type.

The tea lost.

****

Her goals merged too closely with it.  Edgar was so close to Johnny.  Take Edgar away, get to Johnny. Take away Johnny, get Edgar.  It lined up so well and she regretted it bitterly.  She still believed – knew, even – that she was doing the right thing, but she wasn’t sure about _it_. Unfortunately, as it had been made clear to her, Johnny and his friends, and a small town deep in the middle of nowhere; it mattered very little what anyone thought of its desires.

****

She wasn’t allowed outside by herself very often. Edgar and Johnny seemed to think that everything was trying to eat her and only took her out with them.  Tonight though, she just left on her own, right out the door behind the kitchen. Edgar was dealing with some kind of fit on Johnny’s part and Banshee had just decided she’d had enough of those. 

It was cool, but she didn’t feel a need for a coat over her sweater. No clouds, no bugs, no loud cars, just outside.  She thought of walking to the school and ruling the skyline from its roof or of going to the library and waiting for Edgar to meet _her_ there instead of not-secret-anymore woman, but decided to limit her adventure to the backyard.

Spinning through the grass, the long weeds had only brief holds on her before she twisted away from them the way Johnny curled away from Edgar. Leaves stuck to her hair and the trees became whole worlds when she saw them blurring by her eyes. She fell back into the grass, and the stars jumped around her vision while she tried to refocus.  Grass and leaves pricked at her neck.

There were sounds in everything.  She heard children who had been here years before her, and pets that had lived and died here. The yard had been a savannah, an ocean, a lush garden, another planet, a pirate ship, a country where men died fighting for it, and the site of dozens of birthday parties.  There was a cold breeze that grazed her stomach, even though her sweater had covered her stomach when she was standing.

_“war without tears”_

The voice of the grass almost surprised her.

_“if looks could kill_   
_they probably will_   
_games without frontiers_   
_war without tears”_

 

She wondered if the other kids had heard the grass whistle or if the other kids _were_ the whistle. Her sweater felt tight and made her neck itch. The other kids had worn itchy sweaters and dumb suits to their parties and donned pirate hats and flowers when they entertained other worlds.

_“dressing up in costumes_   
_playing silly games_   
_hiding out in tree tops_   
_shouting out rude names”_

These kids had parents and friends and went to school. They didn’t know anything about Athena or Anubis or the Good People or Thor or the Mayan calendar and they didn’t mind. They saved the world on this grass anyway.   Teachers were insulted here, moms were unfair here, little siblings were annoying here.  Children who had died strange deaths years later once played Truth or Dare here. 

  
_“Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside...”_

The grass knew all their songs, and all their friends. The grass knew that the password to the 'Boys Only' tree house was ‘Captain Hook.’ The grass remembered Pepito. The grass remembered times when it only held old couples in lawn chairs, but it liked the games of their grandchildren better.

The grass was relentless against her neck and the itch kept coming back.  However, the grass let her spend a long time almost close enough to touch what had been here before her, so she ignored the itch, afraid to shatter the fragile world being whistled to her.  So many songs playing together sounded grating and enticing at once.  They were all such excited songs. If hers was among them, she couldn’t find it.

A dog startled her as it burst into her world. It stuck its nose in her face, sniffed her a few times as she flailed in hopes of it leaving her alone, and then trotted off into the darkness in the next yard.  She sat up and took a few deep breaths, thankful she hadn’t been licked, and then dropped her ears back to the yard. As much as she asked it to speak again, she heard nothing else from the grass.    
  
Instead, she heard the sounds of gravel from the front of the house and picked herself up from the silent grass. Dusting a few stray blades and leaves from her sweater, she went to the front of the house to meet Edgar and was surprised when there was a woman standing in his place.

The woman looked just as shocked to see Banshee and seemed to contemplate running for a moment before she relaxed and waved.

“Hi there. Are you Stephanie?”

“No,” Banshee answered.

“‘Banshee’ then? Edgar was right, you do look a lot like Johnny.”

Not only was this woman snooping around her house, she had to bring Johnny up.  
  
“What do you want? Are you meeting Edgar?”

“I think we’re done for the night,” the woman said, glancing into the lit dining room window beside her.

“You should probably go then.”

“You’re right. You know, Banshee, you’re a lot bigger than I imagined you.”

Banshee watched her walk to the street and disappear much the way the dog had. Her sweater suddenly felt entirely ineffective and she shivered.  When she rounded the corner of the house to open the door, she reached for the handle and found it in a different spot than she’d left it. More of her reflection stared back at her from the door’s glass pane than ever had before and she saw that what she had thought had been leaves and grass poking her all evening had been her hair, growing from the butchered style that Johnny had given it and piling up around her neck.  Even in the faint image in the glass she could see the dark roots overtaking the green dye.

She was afraid to open the door. Afraid to tell Edgar she needed more clothing even as the ones on her body were tightening.  Johnny was moaning or crying or screaming inside the house and Edgar was saying he had no way of knowing if it had been Tess who did whatever was making Johnny upset. 

The door clicked when she opened it and she stood in the entrance way, cold and dressed in clothing she thought she’d have to cut from her skin.

“I saw her,” she said, her voice quiet.

Though Johnny was clearly in pain, even he seemed to stop caring about himself long enough to stare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banshee’s “Games Without Frontiers” is the original by Peter Gabriel.  
> Johnny’s “Games Without Frontiers” is a cover by Brainclaw.
> 
> There is little difference in lyrics (the cover seems to be missing the background French vocal), so the difference in the song is not discernable from what words I’ve sampled here, but the feelings are quite different when they’re listened to. I recommend listening to both.


	8. Red Stars

“My god, what did she do to you?” Edgar approached Banshee slowly, torn between helping her and helping Johnny.

“I don’t think it was her,” Banshee said, watching her fingernails finally come to a stop.

“What was she doing? What were _you_ doing?”

“We were just outside. She said she had met you and that she was going home.”

Johnny muttered something about Jell-O but nothing about Tess.

Edgar managed to get close enough to Banshee to touch her shoulder, confirming that she really was as tall as she seemed.  She looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old now, and had left the house looking like a nine-year-old. 

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Banshee asked.  “These are really tight.”

“Sure, sure,” Edgar nodded, though his voice sounded disconnected.  “Johnny, will you be all right for a few minutes?”

Johnny responded by burrowing his head into the arm of the pink recliner.

“Come on, hurry up,” Edgar said, pushing her toward the stairs with a hand between her shoulders. “I’ll find you something.”

Edgar led Banshee into the bathroom and handed her a pair of scissors.  She didn’t need them to wriggle out of jeans she’d been wearing, but a few snips were required to get her arms out of the sleeves of her sweater.  While Edgar looked for a shirt long enough to double as a dress until they could get a hold of Devi, Banshee hacked away at the extra lengths of hair and fingernails she’d accumulated while in the yard.  

In one of Johnny’s old long shirts, she somehow looked rattier than she had when naked.  Her nails were uneven and ragged, resulting in itchy spots becoming bloody spots. Her hair was back to its natural dark shade while the faded green sat in a pile at her feet.  The style had been executed the same way she had seen Johnny do it, but it looked terrible. It was too long on one side and she had a few small bald patches on the other.  Edgar told her that when Johnny was feeling better, he’d fix the disaster on her head and they’d find the nail file, but for now she’d have to deal with looking ratty the best she could.  He scuffled back down to living room to brave the hardships that were likely to come with prying Johnny out of rose-colored upholstery and left Banshee staring at her horrid reflection.

She wondered what Tess was doing in their yard and why she lied about visiting Edgar. Opening the cabinet behind the mirror, she found extra Homicides make-up. 

Black and blue eyes.

She looked more like him when she wore make-up.  Without the glasses, when she got close to the cold surface of the mirror, she might have been looking at a younger Johnny. 

She wet her hair and spiked it in directions that seemed contrary to gravity.  Even more. Tried to see the spikes in blue. She entertained the thought of insulting her reflection or smirking or even swearing loudly for the complete effect, but she felt Edgar would somehow notice even the smirk from downstairs and be angry with her for the gentle mocking.

Instead, she hummed and closed her eyes, floating along to the soft buzz of her throat and the small bursts of Johnny’s voice from downstairs. She vocalized something as she listened to Johnny, most of it disjointed ‘la’s’. Firework bursts that sprung from the shapes of the bathroom lights danced in front of her eyes. She saw Tess behind her eyelids and sang a song for the both of them – or maybe all three of them.  She wanted to think she made up the words, but she might have been drawing them from somewhere else. 

_‘you give it, we take it_   
_you build it, we break it_   
_you sign and we erase it_   
_you feel it, we fake it’_

Banshee was older, wearing her star and singing loudly to a crowd. She, Tess, and Johnny did some kind of dance with instruments that could not have been making the noises they were (it should have been impossible to rock out with a triangle) and all smiling broadly. 

Tess belonged to the group in some way. Maybe should have been there since the beginning.

In Banshee’s head, Tess wore a red star on stage.

Edgar was standing in the door way.  Banshee stared at him and felt rooted in place. Her hands, preparing to make some grand gesture on stage with Tess, took on the flexibility of concrete.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Banshee answered.

“Is that make-up?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re singing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’s nothing?”

“Yeah.”

“Johnny’s okay. Thought I should let you know. And, you know, check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I guess the black is a little overdone.”

“Do want some help getting that off?”

“I think I can handle it,” Banshee said, finally able to look back in the mirror.  The raccoon-eyed pre-teen in the mirror scared her a little. “I think I’m old enough.”

“I was a little afraid of that,” Edgar replied, glancing at the hair bunched at Banshee’s ankles. “Can I give you something that will make it easier?”  He reached into the cabinet and handed Banshee a small bottle. 

“What is it?”

“It’s just some remover solution that works a little better than soap. Devi gave it to us. Johnny never uses it since he likes looking like a zombie all the time, so there should still be a lot in there.”

“Thanks.” She smeared the liquid on her face with little hesitation.  Edgar twitched, but seemed to relax when he saw that she didn’t splash any in her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“I guess so,” she answered, pressing a washcloth under her eye.

“What do you want to do about going to shows with us?”

“Am I too old now?”

“I don’t know; I’m asking you.”

“People are gonna notice that I was like, five or something last time I was up there, don’t you think?”

“They did well with attending Johnny’s funeral and then his next show. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“I’d like to do it.  Do I get a new outfit?”

“I’m thinking it’ll be necessary. We could give you another star or something. You could be red.”

“No, that one’s not for me. I like the white one.”

“I don’t think we really meant it to be your color, it just matched the outfit.”

“I like it,” she repeated, cleaning the last of the black from her eyelids. “And, like I said, the red isn’t for me.”

“All right, we’ll do that. In the meantime, did Tess tell you anything while she was out there?”

“Just that I looked older than she thought I would.”

“I don’t know what to do about her now. I’m a little leery of visiting someone who stalks around my house and messes with Johnny’s brain and says weird things to my…” He coughed awkwardly.  “…well, _you_. I thought she could help before, but now I wonder if she ever will.”

“Go give her a chance to explain,” Banshee said, picking up the discarded hair. “I think I want to know what she was doing too.”

“We’ll see.”

Banshee decided then that if Edgar didn’t go to see Tess, she would do it herself.

****

Johnny made good on Edgar's promise that he would fix Banshee's hair when he came back around to being himself. He cut it shorter than it had been before on all sides but left the front and they decided together to dye it several colors.  Johnny had a stash of a few different colors that he suspected were no longer good anymore since he only ever used blue, but he and Banshee took the risk anyway.  When they were done she looked like a disheveled snow cone.

Her nails managed to be tamed and Banshee later painted them with a combination of marker and polish. Devi provided some of her old clothes, which Banshee quickly customized just to avoid looking like a rerun of Devi, age thirteen.

She was still going to be the band's noisemaking mascot, and no one was going to notice. Or at least, that was the plan.

Edgar avoided all talk of Tess and most talk of Banshee.  He looked almost embarrassed about everything and seemed to have a hard time with the change of a friend into something he had to be wary of and Banshee into some kind of pre-adult.

In a way, things looked different to her as well.  She saw things from a very rational point of view that layered itself over a viewpoint that saw every detail of everything it looked at, but never the whole.  Before her sudden growth in the yard, she had perceived so much black and white.  Now she was staring at the dot matrix in a newspaper photograph.

Edgar, either in poor judgment or unwillingness to bother, let Banshee wander the streets when she wanted to.  She used the new freedom to walk blocks away and talk to people, to buy things from small shops and to visit the places that had always held such a mythical level of intrigue to her.

All the way to the strip of buildings down town. Under that bridge that Johnny used to say was made with poison and had the corpse of a little kid in it. The unfortunate child, Johnny had told her, has been walled in alive as a sacrifice to prevent the bridge from collapsing. Banshee found when she went to look closer that there was no kid and there was no poison, unless the high school kid who kept asking Banshee what she wanted to buy from him counted.

The library wasn't a hidden nest of lies and secrets and women who wanted to break into her house. She was honestly surprised.

The building with the spine picture in the window had a scary growth on its outer wall. It was cracked and yellowed and looked to be growing hair.  Johnny had told Banshee when they first walked this way together than he and Jimmy had smashed a mayonnaise packet against that wall and the people who owned the building let it fester. It had been there, he reported, for years. Banshee was just as wary of touching it now as she had been the first time she saw it.

A block or so away from the yellow mayo growth, on the corner of her own block, a splash of silver decorated the sidewalk. Banshee had been told that years before Johnny and the others met, someone had thrown up there and no one cleaned it up.  It had become this shining silver blob after a particularly cold winter.  Banshee hadn’t asked why no one in town seemed keen on cleaning up after anyone or anything.

The school was amazing. There were people in it. Johnny and Edgar had so rarely mentioned the other students in a context beyond, 'people who couldn't see us.' Some of them couldn't see her, but other people noticed her and stared with some familiarity. There was a class in Johnny’s choir room, but it wasn’t a choir class.  His office looked untouched.  A kid in the class was scolded for staring at Banshee, but only because the teacher couldn’t see her.  Banshee slipped out and made a note to steal Johnny’s keys and come back at night.

She imagined bean bag chairs and stolen cafeteria food and torn up old playgrounds.  All the places she’d been told about, all the stories of how Uncle Jimmy had sustained one injury or another, stories of who had broken and torn what when jumping over a fence. Even though she was now part of their tribe, their circle, she felt that she had missed everything good.

Pepito’s house wasn’t scary, just old and weathered.  When Banshee poked a mechanical probe in his yard a voice from inside it sounded startled. A man who didn’t look like the Anti-Christ at all stood on the porch of the house, holding a steaming mug.

“Um, hi,” he said. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, no,” Banshee said quickly. “I just wanted to see what this was.”

“We try to pretend it isn’t there, but destroying it never does any good.”

“There’s a guy in there.”

“Yeah, that’s Dib. He doesn’t know we know he’s there. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, I’m Banshee.” This man would never know she’d been called ‘Stephanie’ once.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really?”

“We know your family.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you would.”

“The resemblance is pretty strong.”

“I get that a lot,” Banshee grumbled.

“Are you theirs? I mean, Pepito says that kind of stuff can happen, but I never know what stuff about Hell he just makes up.”

“Theirs? You mean, biological or something?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to think about why I look like this. I only just got this big. It’s the first time I’ve been able to see it.”

“I hope Pepito didn’t lie to them.”

“Who are you?”

“Todd. I live with Pepito. We went to school together.”

“Oh, like Edgar and Johnny.”

“Something like that, yeah. I guess so.”

“What don’t you want Pepito to lie about?” They remained separated by the entire yard. Banshee was sure it was a way of keeping the relationship casual. She may as well have been asking him about fertilizer or the weather or his sick aunt. She could have gone to the stairs  - Todd didn’t scare her – but she had a feeling she’d never talk to him like this again.

“About not being responsible for you. It’d be a pretty sick joke to play on that poor Edgar guy.”

“What about Johnny?”

“Nothing bothers him,” Todd said, his knuckles going white as he gripped the handle of his mug.  “Though,” he added, fingers loosening, “I guess I did feel a little bad for him too, in the end. Pepito put them through a lot.”

“So I’m not from Pepito?”

“Not that I know of. He hasn’t said anything about it. Did you think you were?”

“No,” she said cheerfully, “but everyone else seems to.”

“Where do you come from, then?”

“I don’t know.  I think I knew once, but I forgot.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“It didn’t until right now.”

“Oh.”

Banshee became very sure she would never speak to Todd again.

****

  
She didn't want to be wrong.   
  
It wasn't that Tess wanted Edgar to be suffering abuse, or that she wanted the little girl to be unhappy. It wasn't even that she wanted confirmation that Johnny was evil, it was just that she didn't want to have to take back weeks of adamant fighting.   
  
She'd given Edgar lectures and stories about why she was right. She'd argued with herself and the world that couldn't see her that she was right. She argued with the news anchors on the monitors in the window of the shitty computer store.  
  
She dialed the number most of the way through three times. Tess didn't know why the prospect of talking to Devi worried her so much, but it definitely made her uneasy. Once, she turned from the phone and poked the keypad at random, getting a person who was very much not Devi and very much not pleased to hear from Tess. Tess tried to say to herself, "Edgar gave you the wrong number," but she knew that there was no way she'd hit even close to the right buttons on her wild flailing, and resolved to actually dial.

There was only a single ring before someone picked up.  
  
"Thanks for calling, what the hell do you want?"   
  
"Devi?"  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Edgar said he'd-"  
  
"Oh, you're the secret date girl."  
  
"He said that?" Tess asked, trying to sound casual.  
  
"Nah, it just sounds like you guys are having some kind of affair. Nny would skin him alive, though. You wanted to talk to me?"  
  
"I think so." She hadn't, actually, but it was better to assume a position of confidence. "I just thought maybe someone with another look at what's going on could help me."  
  
"Oh, right, he did say you think Nny beats him or something."  
  
"It's more emotional, I think."  
  
Devi sighed, and the noise of her breath against the receiver buzzed in Tess' ear. "I suppose if you wanted to call it that, but it's all pretty willing on Edgar's part. He knew what he was getting into."  
  
"You don't think that sounds like brainwashing? Or dodgy or anything?"  
  
"No, it just sounds like a high school crush that never left the 'likes the bad ones' stage. You sort of have to know Johnny to understand, though."  
  
"Everyone keeps rationalizing this. _It's fine, you just have to know him_."  
  
"It's true. Hang on a sec, okay?"   
  
"Sure."  
  
Devi made no attempt at all to cover the receiver when she screamed to someone in the background, "KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF!"   
  
"Hang on, Devi, it's-"   
  
"No! Shut it the hell up!"  
  
"Why do I live with you?!"  
  
"Just die, Tenna. Anyway. Tess, is it? Back now."  
  
"Is everything okay?" Tess asked slowly.  
  
"Yeah, it's just Tenna being obnoxious. She bought like four of those damn toys that light up and freak out when you press a button and she has them performing a round."  
  
"Oh. I see."  
  
"Yeah, so. Edgar."  
  
"Right."  
  
"He's not dying or anything."  
  
"Do you think he's being manipulated?" Getting to the point.  
  
"Oh, we probably all are."  
  
Tess leaned back in her chair. Maybe this was going to go somewhere.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It's Johnny. That's really all there is to it. You met him before, didn't you?"  
  
"When his house collapsed the universe around me, yeah."  
  
"Eh, that's not quite the same. I mean have you met him _recently_?"  
  
"No, I... we seem to have compatibility issues."

“You’re doing all this bitching and you’ve never even met him?”

“It’s sort of hard for us to talk.”

“I say you should try to.”

“Oh, really?”

“You’ve really got no business telling Edgar he’s done something horrible when you haven’t even met Johnny.  And, to be truth – thanks, Tenna. Yeah, in a sec - to be truthful, it’s not like I’m that unbiased; we’re all attached to Johnny whether we want to be or not.”

“ _Attached_?”

“I don’t think any of us ever got over our high school feelings,” Devi said with a small laugh. “Edgar just got lucky with his.  I have to go, okay?  My show’s on.  Call me back next time you feel like Edgar’s had a meltdown.”

Devi hung up and Tess listened to the dial tone for much longer than she’d been on the phone.

****

They could do whatever they wanted, and they knew it.  Even if entire tours consisted of nothing but warped cover versions of the songs their audience already carried in their minds, the people who watched Johnny and his collection of dead people inhaled the music and tried to keep it in.  The trick to the Homicides was that everyone needed to exhale sooner or later and once a song was breathed out, it was gone.

Banshee didn’t remember them practicing these songs and wondered if they did so telepathically while she slept.  It was possible the songs were old - just things they used to play before she came along - but she had never heard them before. Still, she shrieked along the way she had when she was smaller and did her best to keep up with what was happening.

Her effect on the crowd was different now.  There was no longer a cute aspect to Banshee, and so people were less willing to listen to her scream.  People asked what had happened to the little girl and why they had replaced her with a preteen sporting clown hair.  Even her not-family seemed to grow tired of her wailing or dancing.  Edgar gave her sympathetic smiles, though he was preoccupied with too much else to pay her as much attention as he used to.  Devi told her they’d just have to work out the kinks and Johnny told her she could just tell everyone who didn’t approve to fuck off.

In her head, she, Johnny, and Tess did just fine, wailing or not. 

Fans that had come to watch the shows carried posters and photos hoping that someone would sign them.  Others had T-shirts and hats and one girl nearly flung herself onto Johnny’s boots after a song in an effort to get the band to sign her bra.  Johnny had backed away as though the woman was covered in slime and not just mostly naked, but Jimmy was more than willing to indulge the half-dressed woman and signed her chest while he was at it.   Edgar had buried his forehead into his keys and Devi stared open-mouthed at the whole affair.  It was Banshee who had to chase the woman off the side of the stage, though she was only allowed to do so by screaming like the damned at her, lest she break the demon image.

A certain level of appeal had been lost now that she was more than a few feet tall.  Johnny and the others no longer floated above her, and the atmosphere was more clearly a bunch of sweaty, dirty, heavily-made-up people in black than it was a religious experience. She missed the way it used to look, but appreciated what her less-innocent eyes could now see.

Unfortunately, there were still things she could not see.

Tess came to the show on a Saturday. She waved to Banshee from the back of the room and sent the Homicides’ demon into a panic. Flailing fit well with her demon persona, so it served her well as a thinking response before she realized she just wanted to get the attention of the band.  She twirled in front of them and tried to send them telepathic distress signals, but all were too absorbed in the song to notice.  There was a certain danger in passing in front of Johnny, but she decided it was worth the risk and he’d appreciate keeping his brain cells.

When Banshee managed eye-contact with Johnny, he crumpled to the floor. 

Terrified she’d somehow caused Johnny’s collapse and only partly thinking, she recoiled from the spot on stage and tore into the audience, Edgar and Jimmy’s voices drowning in the sudden and growing upset.

Tess remained in the back, which was somehow obvious, though Banshee couldn’t see her.  What she could see were rows of black leather and bare stomachs. Sparking navels and glowsticks. Glitter and glowing nail polish. People surged toward her, attempting to see what had happened to Johnny for themselves. Only a few of them seemed to notice the Homicides’ personal demon clawing her way through the crowd, and even the ones who didn’t tore the trailing white sleeves of her costume as she squeezed by.

She fumbled on the shreds of her quickly deteriorating outfit and crashed into the ribs of a man who smelled strongly of smoke.  He tried to ask her something, but was cut off when she was dragged to the floor.  For a moment, Banshee heard her name being called over the microphone, but she was so driven to get through the crowd now that she didn’t consider turning back.  Inside herself somewhere, she wanted to put herself into a little danger. Not big danger, but the kind that was filmed with high contrast and thumping bass and felt dramatic and meaningful. She wanted to be in just a little fake peril to balance out the glance that had apparently knocked Johnny unconscious. 

Devi’s voice on the microphone tried to explain what had happened to Johnny as exhaustion and a side effect of having been dead once and asked everyone to remain calm and security would be taking over soon.  Banshee heard her name several more times and dove deeper into the crowd.  Tess was still in the back and Banshee’s new goal, or maybe her goal all along, was to get to her.

Feet shuffled close to her head, pinning her long sleeves to concrete floor and tearing most of Tenna’s embellishing from it. There was no longer an identifiable flow to the crowd, just a mass of shifting neon.  Banshee herself was covered in glowing paint for the show and no one seemed to think twice about stepping over her or pushing her out of the way.  Still hearing her name, she crawled away from the sound, every shred of the costume lost making her progress easier.  

When she emerged from the back of the crowd and pulled herself from the floor she could no longer see the stage.  Tess stood in the back, just where Banshee had seen her from the stage. Though she was tattered, smeared and likely going to be bruised in a day or so, Banshee felt free and as though no time had passed at all. She stood with some pride at her fake movie scene.

“They’re worried about you,” Tess said. “What are you doing back here?”

“What are _you_ doing back here?”

“Watching the show.”

“You’re here to do something to Johnny.”

“No,” Tess answered, glancing at the stage, “I’m not.”

“Do you follow us?”

“No.”

“I think you should be up there too,” Banshee said quickly, recalling her prior day dreaming.

“On stage?” Tess asked.  “Falling unconscious, or…?”

“Just up there. With us.  You can be red. I just feel like you should be.”

“Edgar is going to be worried about you out here.”

Banshee turned to look at the stage, but again was limited by her height.

“He hasn’t called,” she said. 

“He’s the one with Johnny.”

“Of course he is.”  She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.

“You too, huh?” Tess asked, gazing above the crowd.

“Me too?”

“Thing for Edgar?”

“A ‘thing’?”  Part of her costume fell from her shoulders and she struggled to keep the right side of it on her body. She was sure she tasted the neon paint on her face. She knew Tess was probably dangerous, and was likely standing in front of Banshee only because she had come to do harm, but Banshee wanted to stop hearing her own name over the speakers and just talk.

“You know what I mean. He’s told me how smart you are.”

“He’s not- he’s supposed to be my father, not my-”

“You don’t look anything like him.”

“Not like that!” Banshee shrieked, the familiar ‘looks like Johnny’ burrowing under her skin again.

After her outburst, stragglers from the crowd clustered around her and began yelling that they’d found her. Banshee overheard Tess try to tell them to put Banshee down, and even felt Tess’ hand latch onto her wrist, but it had no effect on the small herd and they carried Banshee, struggling and clawing at their faces, to the front of the mass and to Devi, who showed obvious relief at the sight of her.

More souvenir shreds of Banshee’s costume had disappeared in the trip to the front of the room. Devi swore at the crowd that had dragged Banshee to her, but it seemed to be cursing delivered in gratitude.

“What happened to you?” Devi asked, surveying the damage to Banshee’s outfit.

“I got a little stuck.”

“But why the hell do you just dive in? Come on, we have to get in the back.  Jimmy and Tenna have some security people ready to take care of the people out here.”

“I just did,” Banshee answered blandly.  “Tess is out there.”

“Tess? The mystery date woman?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say anything? Did you see anything?  She might be what happened to Johnny. He was so upset to see her the last time she came to a show…”

She’d been afraid to ask, but now seemed the time.

“What _did_ happen to Johnny?”

“We don’t know. He looked at you and then he just hit the floor.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Banshee said quickly, trying not to flail her arms, “I was trying to tell him about Tess!”

“I’m sure, hun, really. We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

In the back, Edgar sat with Johnny lying beside him on a torn old couch.  Tenna stood uncomfortably nearby and brightened considerably when Banshee and Devi walked in. 

“Hey, you made it out of crowd surfing! There’s one to check of the list of life experiences, yeah?”

Edgar looked up when he heard Tenna. 

“Oh good,” he said, letting out a long breath, “you’re okay.  I was worried someone would kidnap you or something. Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry we lost track of you.” He glanced at Johnny lying apparently unconscious on the cushion beside him. “It was all kind of sudden.”

“It’s okay.”

“Edgar,” Devi broke in, “Banshee says that Tess is here.”

“Tess? God, no wonder Johnny just fell over. Where was she? What did she do?”

“Nothing,” Banshee said softly. “We just talked.”

“Did she say anything? See anything?”

Banshee shook her head while Tenna tied some torn parts of her costume back together.

“Nothing.  Just that she wasn’t here to hurt Johnny and she wasn’t following us.”

“That sounds like a load of crap to me,” Tenna said, cinching the waist of Banshee’s robe with what used to be part of her sleeve.

“Sounds like some half-truth,” Devi replied, scratching at her face paint.  “She’s probably just here to stare at Edgar.”

Edgar looked offended.

“Are you kidding?  I know she’s fond of me an’ all, but it’s not like I’m up there like Jimmy flashing my chest and most of my pelvis at people. I didn’t sign any bras or trade nipple marker drawings!”

“Some of us like the more reserved type, Edgar,” Tenna said, grinning.  She patted Banshee on the head as she finished outfit repairs and went to sit on a stool near Edgar and the couch.

“I feel like I need to wear a paper bag now,” Edgar grumbled.

“It’s okay to be pretty,” Tenna cooed.

“Tenna, if she comes just to see me look pretty, she fries Johnny’s brain!” Edgar gestured dramatically at Johnny to hammer his point home.  Johnny rolled his head to the side.

“Hey, I think he’s waking up!” Devi rushed forward, crowding into Johnny’s space. Banshee followed her, though she was afraid to get too close. If Johnny woke up remembering that Banshee had caused his collapse, she wanted a head start on her flee from the room.

The others shook Johnny and poked at him, calling his name as they watched his head nod.  He eventually came around and started swatting at the people around him.

“Shut up, shut up. Go away,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. My head hurts. Leave me alone.”

“Johnny, please,” Edgar persisted. “Just tell us what happened. We were worried.”

“I fell over and my head hurts. Fuck off.” Johnny attempted to roll over into the cushions, but Edgar had a hold on his shoulders.

“You just hit the ground when Banshee looked at you. Did you see something?”

“That Tess woman is here,” Johnny growled, “and I just want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

While the others tensed up, Banshee felt a wave of relief that Johnny was blaming the incident on Tess and audibly sighed.   She saw Edgar sigh too, though his was out of frustration.  He released Johnny’s shoulders and watched Johnny curl into a ball against the old couch.

When Jimmy returned to the back he was angry that he hadn’t been able to talk to Johnny. Through all his rants and raves, Banshee could only think that Tess belonged back there too. 

Holding contradictory ideas in her head at once was not as difficult as she thought it should have been. Tess was going to hurt Johnny and take Edgar from them.  Tess also belonged and should be given a chance.  Banshee hadn’t any proof of this, really, but she felt it. She was sure.  How much of a betrayal would it be to bring Tess back there?  How could she play it as an accident?  How much could she play the dumb child?

She didn’t answer herself, but instead turned on her heel and said something about a bathroom to the others.  They were arguing about Johnny and didn’t hear her.  Beyond the curtain, Banshee watched the Homicides’ fans leak out the rear door, escorted by a few security people.

Tess remained by the back corner, the men in black ‘staff’ shirts ignoring her entirely.  She smiled at Banshee and waved cheerily. When she approached, Banshee wanted to run, but found herself firmly affixed to the stage curtain.

“How are things?” Tess asked when she was reasonably in range.

“Fine,” Banshee answered quietly. “But Johnny knows you’re here.”

“He always does.”

“Why did you come?” Banshee asked.

“To watch,” Tess said with a shrug.

“Then why are you still here?” She pulled the stage curtain around herself protectively.

“I just am.”

“Have you ever talked to Johnny?”

“Once,” Tess said, kicking a dull glowstick across the floor. “In a place like this, before he apparently died.”

“You didn’t…” Banshee pulled the curtain tighter as she took a step back.

“No,” Tess said, laughing. “I didn’t kill him. I only heard ‘heart failure’ like the rest of the media did.”

“Why doesn’t he like you?”

“We met each other once before, and I suppose that I must,” she paused to look dramatically annoyed and make air quotes, “cause him some discomfort.”

“On purpose?”

“No, actually. I think he just remembers when he sees me, which is fine with me.”

“So you’re not trying to do it, but you like doing it.”

“Maybe.”

“He’s scared of you.” She regretted saying it the moment she heard it in the air.

“I thought he might be.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to, I guess.”

“I _like_ Johnny,” Banshee defended. “I think you might too.”

“He used to kill people,” Tess said, pulling herself up onto the stage. “Did they tell you that?”

“No.” Her voice wavered both with Tess’ new proximity and the accusation Tess had just made.

“I was there when he did it. I saw him kill people, I saw people he was going to kill later.”

“It wasn’t him,” Banshee said quickly. “You had someone else.”

“It was definitely him. I wouldn’t forget him for anything in the world.” Tess remained seated on the edge of the stage. Banshee thought she actually felt Tess trying to keep her distance and establish trust.

“What makes you sure?”

“I looked at him, I talked to him.” She stopped for a moment to clean a lens on her glasses. “He killed my asshole boyfriend and his house devoured everything soon after. You don’t just forget people like that.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Is my mythology so much harder for you to swallow? Zeus can have babies and I can’t have seen the monster Johnny kept under his floorboards?”

“Zeus… is a god.” The worn velvet curtain felt like it was shedding in her grasp and yet Banshee continued to twist it in her hands. “Nny… is just Nny.”

“Man, he’s got you all saying that,” Tess laughed. “Did he sit you all down for a single brainwashing or what?”

“Brainwashing?!”  
  
“I know, I know,” Tess said, waving her hand. “‘ _You just have to know him_.’”

“You _do_ ,” Banshee insisted.  “You should talk to him and just see – he doesn’t kill people.”

“Are you inviting me?”

“I … don’t think I can.  Johnny would be angry.”

“It’s all about Johnny, still, huh?”

“If I invite you… then you can come in.”

“What?”

“You have to invite demons in before they can touch you.  Are you a demon? Is that why you’re way out here with us?”

“Jeez, they really do feed you only mythology, don’t they?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Even if I tell you I’m not a demon, you’re not going to let me talk to them.”

Banshee didn’t have anything to say.  This had all seemed like such a good idea a few minutes ago and now she was clutching the curtain closed around her in the feeble attempt to have Tess think it was impassable. She turned to look over her shoulder, but no one was coming to find her.  Tess was so close and yet Johnny wasn’t doing anything; she didn’t hear any screaming or complaining or any of the smashing things that usually accompanied Johnny’s Tess-related fits.

“They’re going to wonder where you went.”

“I know, but-”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t really know if I can trust you.”  She realized that she was stuck there – stay at the curtain and keep Tess from entering or go back to the others and risk being followed.

“That’s okay.”

The problem was that it wasn’t okay.  Banshee felt sure that she should be able to trust part of Tess. There was nothing innately scary about the woman who should have been wearing the red star – the very fact that Banshee imagined the star meant a fragment of her trusted Tess and regretted the circumstances. 

She was grabbed from behind. 

“What are you doing out here, Kleine?”

“Nothing, Uncle Jimmy.”  She clasped the curtain tightly behind her and tried to breathe evenly.

“Is everybody gone?” he asked, attempting to move beyond the curtain.

“No one’s there,” Banshee said quickly, stepping in front of him.

“You’re acting weird. Someone hit you in the head? You know, after a while, if you get enough of those, the recovery time drops like…” He made a downward crashing motion with his hand.

Banshee nodded, and Jimmy flung the curtain open behind her, despite her attempts to clamp it closed.

“It’s like a glowstick graveyard out here,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. When Banshee looked out, Tess was gone and Jimmy was examining the floor of the stage.

“Did you lose something?”

“Yeah, my earring.”

“Oh. What did it look like?” 

“Just a loop-y thing.”

Banshee crawled onto the floor with him in hopes of focusing on something and not blipping anything about Tess.

“What were you looking for out here?” Jimmy asked her, patting the floor in front of him.

“Nothing, just watching them get rid of everyone.”

“We’re staying here for a while, in case they didn’t tell you.  Apparently there are some angry people in the parking lot, so we’re just going to wait them out.”

“Angry people?”  A red star flashed across her mind.

“People who came a long way to see us, mostly.”

“Tess came a long way,” she said.

“Dammit, I didn’t even see this crazy woman,” Jimmy griped. “I’m even left out of the drama. So far I get that she stalks Edgar and Nny killed her once or something.”

“He really _did_ kill people?”

“Um.”  Jimmy turned away from her, feeling along the floor as he went.  “I thought you knew.”

“No. I thought Tess was lying.”

“You talked to her about that?”

“Not really about it. It was just mentioned in passing. It’s not a big deal.” Really. Yes.

“We’ll have to let Edgar know that you know now, I guess. I’m sure he’ll get all ‘oh god, you’ve corrupted my baby’ on us.”

“You don’t need to tell him.”

“Yeah, I sorta do. I thought he had told you already and you were pleasantly dealing with it, but this is kinda different.”

“I’m fine. I don’t mind.  It was before now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And they probably deserved it or something, right?” She didn’t want to think that way, but it would be easier if she knew that the people Johnny had killed were just bad people.  Tess was with some bad people when she saw what she did, that was all.

Jimmy stopped searching the floor and rose from his knees.  His expression hardened into one she’d never seen on his face before.

“I think that depends on if you’re talking about me or Edgar,” he said, vanishing behind the curtain.

Banshee watched the bottom of the curtain flutter in slow motion.  When her hand slipped on the stage floor, a small metal loop brushed her finger.  

_“Edgar?”_ she thought. _“No. No, that doesn’t make sense.”_

“Edgar, Jimmy, and almost Devi,” Tess’ voice said softly.

“No.”  

“Brutally.”

“No!” Banshee jumped to her feet, clutching the earring so tightly it pinched her palm. “NO! How would you even know?!”  Her voice echoed violently in the empty room. Where Tess was, in Banshee’s head or not, made little difference.

_“best of cruel intentions_   
_finding what they failed to mention_   
_no truth, all pretension_   
_raise your hand to get attention”_

Tess didn’t answer her, but Edgar did.

“I think yelling helps,” he said. He stood behind her, against the curtain.

“She talks to me! Uncle Jimmy said she isn’t lying!”

Edgar shook his head.  “She’s not.”

“But- _you?_ ” 

“Once, yes. That was two lives ago.”

“You said you love him! You live with him!”

“Yes.”

“But he wouldn’t…”

“Not now, no.”

Banshee swore loudly into the blank room. Edgar was silent for a moment before he asked her what she had said.

“You heard me,” Banshee answered bitterly.

“Yes, but I didn’t understand it.”

“Oh.  I guess it’s Greek.”

“Greek now? From what?”

“I made it up from the Iliad.”

“I see. Listen, this whole killing business-”

“It’s real, right?”

“Yes.”

“But Johnny isn’t like that now.”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

Edgar took a few steps toward her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be fine.”

“We’re leaving soon,” Edgar said.  “The little party in the parking lot didn’t get as big as we thought it would.”

“Okay. I’m just going to look for Uncle Jimmy’s earring again, and I’ll be back.”

“Sure. We’ll talk about this more later.”

Another flutter of the curtain later and Banshee wished that she had decided she was too old for howling at strangers. She pressed the earring into her hand again and watched as a man with a long broom shuffled his way into the back of the room to start clearing out the glowsticks and glitter.

****

The van was quiet but for the crackling of a faint radio station and Johnny softly recounting the events of the evening over and over to Edgar, who kept trying to get him to slow down. 

Banshee watched them under cover of ‘ _Goddesses and You_ ’. Edgar was curled around Johnny, probably not even noticing he was doing it.  Johnny looked entirely comfortable where he sat, just less comfortable in his own head. She saw Edgar trying to make Johnny laugh, and Johnny weakly attempting to respond. He was visibly shaken – a far cry from the impression he had given back stage.  Banshee was afraid to look him in the eye for fear she’d break him in half, but she still stole glances at him and Edgar when she turned the pages all too often in her book. 

Tess had said she had a ‘thing’ for Edgar.  For whatever reason, Banshee could only think of Tess wanting to be where Johnny was at that very moment and aching for her. Tess’ probable threat to the occupants of the van aside. Tess had accused Banshee of having a thing as well, but she was sure hers was different, whatever it was.

Johnny said her name, and she tried not to flinch. She turned a page as loudly as she possibly could, accidentally ripping the bottom corner of it.

He asked for her again.

“Yes?” she said, hiding behind the façade of fixing the page.

“Did you see her?” Johnny asked.  He was still lounged against Edgar, and he sounded exhausted.

“A little. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”  She was surprised enough to pick her head up and stare at him, but he’d already turned over, apparently settling in to rest on Edgar.

Jimmy said something she didn’t understand and when she turned to ask what it was, he stared oddly at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Devi,” he said, not taking his eyes from Banshee, “can you and Tenna stop the van?”

“Jimmy, if this is – oh, Banshee, what are you-? Tenna, pull us over.”

“ _Wha-at_?” Banshee shrieked, clamping her book closed.

“You’re growing,” Jimmy said quietly.  Despite that he’d tried to keep it quiet, Edgar jolted upward when he heard. Johnny made some unhappy moans.

“Again?” She watched as her hands lengthened slightly and felt her scalp tingle. “But I just-!”

Jimmy looked disgusted and Banshee heard Edgar prying Johnny from his side.  She felt him drop next to her as she tried to cram all her limbs inward to prevent their growth.  She hurt down to her bones. Skin stretched and hair and nails grew.  She felt her heart rate increase and felt sure her legs were growing at different speeds. No matter how much she curled her fingers into her hands, the nails wouldn’t stay in her fingers.

She lurched sideways as Tenna slammed the van into a small ditch and one of her still-growing fingernails cut into her hand.

Then she heard Johnny say something and it all stopped.  Her bones and muscles still ached, but it was a different pain that it had been a moment ago – not active pain, but aftermath pain.

He stared at her, but there was nothing malicious in his gaze. He hadn’t started the growth, nor stopped it.

“What the fuck just happened?” Tenna asked, still half-belted into the driver’s seat.

Edgar kept asking if she was all right, but Banshee had no way of knowing how to respond to him.

“Jimmy, what was she doing?” Devi asked, poking Jimmy’s shoulder rapidly. “Did you see anything?”

“She was reading!” Jimmy blurted as though Devi had accused him of personally stretching Banshee’s skeleton.

“This is what, three times now?” Tenna waved at Edgar in hopes of pulling answers from him.

“Yeah,” Edgar said, looking lost. “Johnny was angry once when she got in the bathtub, and then once outside with Tess, and just now. The first two could have water in common if there was dew or something, but this…”

“Were you reading in the tub and outside?” Jimmy tried.

Banshee shook her head slowly, her temples throbbing.

“Okay, so she’s not a sponge-girl, or growing with her brain,” Devi said. “Is it just stress? She did get dragged under a crowd, and you said Nny was yelling the first time.”

“The yard was really relaxing,” Banshee said. “I changed before I saw Tess.”

“It doesn’t even seem like even intervals,” Edgar muttered, mostly to himself. Banshee’s chest tightened seeing him look so worried. “These two were so close together…”

“Are we sure it’s not Tess?” Johnny offered.

“Nny, not everything is Tess,” Edgar said.

“We know she was around for two of them, maybe she was around for the first one.”

“Wouldn’t you have felt her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’s an allergy,” Tenna said cheerily.

“What, allergic to childhood?” Devi rolled her eyes.

“At least it’s a small growth,” Jimmy said, trying to smile. “You still fit in your clothes, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Banshee answered miserably.

“It’s a bright side, Kleine.”

“Klein?! Siest du ‘klein’? Ich bin nicht mehr klein, Unkel Jimmy!”

She seethed while Jimmy looked as though he’d been kicked.

“So…,” Devi began, clearly uncomfortable, “do we think it was Johnny? She did stop when he spoke up.”

Attention turned to Johnny and Banshee felt both resentment and relief.

“Fuck you,” Johnny responded. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

For no reason that she could pinpoint, Banshee became acutely aware that her growth was only increasing her resemblance to Johnny.

“We’re not saying you did, but maybe there’s a connection with you guys looking alike,” Devi said.

And there, weirdly enough, was her reason.

“Stop saying that!” Banshee yelled suddenly. 

Jimmy took a sharp breath while the others just blinked at her.

“I’m not Nny!” she continued. “No one has stopped saying it since I got here!”

“We didn’t mean-” Tenna tried.

“It doesn’t matter! Just stop it!”

They sat in silence for several moments before Johnny retreated to his place in the back of the van.

“Man, the hell is wrong with him lately?” Devi asked. She clearly meant it to be honest, but it sounded as though she only wanted to change the subject.

Edgar shook his head.

“He’s been sort of weird since he woke up.”

“He was weird before that, Edgar.”

“I know, I know, but this feels a little different. After he just collapsed I don’t know what to do with him.”

“And we still don’t know what did that,” Tenna observed.

Banshee felt stares on her skin. 

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, still hugging herself. “I just looked at him, tried to tell him Tess was out there, and he just fell apart.”

“He doesn’t do well with Tess,” Edgar said quietly.

“I know, but she was in the room and he didn’t know until he looked at me.”

Edgar glanced over his shoulder at Johnny, who was curled up on the back seat, his back facing the other occupants of the van.  Banshee thought she heard Johnny muttering to himself.

“Banshee, do you think maybe you had some kind of link to him?” Tenna asked, snapping Banshee’s attention from Edgar.

“Like what, reading his mind?”

“Or him reading yours, wouldn’t it be?”

“He can’t do that,” Banshee answered, looking down at her ankles. It hurt to have to admit that parts of Johnny were not magical out loud. She knew inside that he wasn’t, but saying it just confirmed it; even if Johnny was telepathic, the moment she said otherwise the ability vanished. 

“Maybe you can,” Jimmy said excitedly. “Try to send me something with your brain.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, no, come on, try.”

Banshee looked at the others. Devi and Tenna’s faces betrayed an ashamed interest in seeing Banshee attempt to send messages to Jimmy, but Edgar was still distracted by Johnny.

Angrily screwing up her face, she concentrated on sending ‘ _fuck this’_ to Jimmy’s skull. His expression nearly mirrored hers and for several minutes they stared intensely at each other. She tried to visualize sending the words along a highway, and then through wires. She tried seeing them written on his skull and she tried aiming them at his temples, but Jimmy’s expression never changed from the equivalent of an anticipatory dial tone.

Eventually Banshee turned from Jimmy angrily; effectively tearing any link there may have been between them.

“I don’t have mind powers,” she muttered. “I didn’t try to do anything on stage. I was just worried.”

“I think Banshee is Johnny’s sister from the future,” Tenna said bluntly.

“That’s retarded,” Jimmy said. “He doesn’t have any parents.”

“Maybe someone adopted him.”

“As an adult?” Devi asked.

“Weirder things have happened,” Tenna said, crossing her arms and reclining in the driver’s seat.

“So someone adopts him,” Jimmy said, “and then they have a kid that looks just like him?”

“I’m right here,” Banshee growled.

Devi sighed and flopped over in her seat to try to explain more clearly.

“Look, hun, I’m sorry this bugs you, but it might be related to what’s going on with Johnny. When we figure it out, we’ll let it go, promise.”  She looked at Jimmy and Tenna who both nodded in agreement.

“Can’t you talk about it when I’m not here?”

“You want to step outside?” Devi asked.

Banshee glanced outside and saw the first drops of oncoming rain tapping the window. “Not really.”

“Then you’ll have to tolerate it.”

Tenna looked surprised at Devi’s tone and Jimmy moved as though he was going to try to soften what she said, but stopped short of actually saying anything.

“Fine,” Banshee spat after a moment.

She glanced at Edgar, who she hoped for some help from, but felt immediately that he was pained and conflicted. 

“ _More concerned for Johnny than me,”_ she thought, watching Edgar’s expressions flicker between his concern for Johnny and his worry about Banshee’s brain.  “ _Do I have to pass out before I’m more important?”_ She found herself suddenly very glad that they’d just proved she wasn’t projecting thoughts at anyone.

Jimmy and Devi argued about what they thought Banshee was while Tenna looked on, tired of the entire thing.  Banshee was also tired of worrying about who she was, what she was, and what she could do, but didn’t have the luxury of closing her eyes and escaping it like Tenna did.

Banshee watched as Edgar’s conflict resolved itself on the side of Johnny and he climbed to the back of the van to check on the boney form curled into the seat.  Johnny hadn’t ever looked so small to her. Edgar spoke quietly enough to not be noticed by the others engaged in argument. He said nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that he had any reason to conceal, but he was obviously trying. 

Sometimes, Banshee forgot that somewhere underneath her cheerful Uncle Jimmy was still a man who resented that Edgar had Johnny.  Very rarely did the others make exceptions or adjustments for Jimmy, but unless Devi had some outstanding issues with Edgar and Johnny, this quiet was all out of some kind of respect for Jimmy.  It felt somewhat backwards, but at that moment, Banshee understood Tess’ ‘thing’ for Edgar entirely and felt warm at the thought of it.

Johnny seemed unresponsive to anything Edgar said for several minutes. The others pretended not to be watching or paying attention, but their conversation was so disjointed that Banshee had no doubts that they were all acutely tuned to the back of the van.  

Banshee knew very little of everyone else’s feelings regarding Johnny and Edgar, aside from Jimmy’s desire to take Edgar’s place. Were Devi and Tenna holding some kind of resentment too?  From how long ago?

“It’s never us anymore,” Jimmy muttered, as though answering her thoughts.

“What?” Banshee looked up at him, though she wasn’t even sure he was speaking to her.

“When we were kids – when we were still in highschool – if something went wrong, it was all of us who fixed it.”

“Yeah, we even fixed _you_ ,” Devi said, nodding toward Jimmy.

“When Johnny lost that string, you know?” Jimmy returned Devi’s nod knowingly. “We went everywhere for it. Anything that happened to one of us happened to all of us.”

“People grow up, Jimmy,” Tenna said to the windshield. She was slumped in her seat and batting at the squeaky skeleton toy she’d hung from the rearview mirror.

Jimmy’s shoulders dropped as he let out a long breath.  The vest he’d worn for the show that night slid to one side and he scratched at the giant suture Tenna had sculpted onto his torso. 

“But we weren’t even _asked_ ,” he said, glancing back at Edgar and Johnny.

“I think maybe Edgar knows him better than we do by now,” Devi said.

“Or he just thinks he does.”

“Maybe.”

“What would you do, Uncle Jimmy?”

Jimmy turned to Banshee as though he’d forgotten she was there.

“What?”

“What would you be doing back there, if Edgar was you?”

Devi and Tenna looked uncomfortable, and Banshee thought Jimmy would cry before he answered.

“I’d like to think I’d be doing exactly what he’s doing.”

“Only ‘like’ to think?” Banshee asked slowly.

“He can’t say he wouldn’t be trying to rape Nny into feeling better,” Devi said, fishing through the glove compartment.

“Fuck you! That’s not true!” Jimmy yelled, startling Edgar, who had no idea he was being even indirectly discussed.

“Jeez, what are you screaming about?” Edgar asked.

“I’m not going to rape him!” Jimmy blurted.

“What?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t if I were you!”

Edgar glared in Jimmy’s direction.  “Is that a threat?”

“Gah, NO! I know you’re not raping him!”

“What the hell did I miss?”

“Nothing, Edgar,” Devi said, tossing a shooing motion in his direction. “Go back to whispering sweet nothings or whatever you were up to.”

Edgar scowled in disgust but turned back to Johnny with out a word.

Banshee was almost afraid to bring Jimmy’s original statement up again, but curiosity proved stronger than tact.

“Only ‘like’ to think?” she asked again.

She saw Jimmy mentally get back on track with the prior conversation and then he nodded slightly. 

“I don’t know if I’m any good at whatever he’s doing, but damn if I wouldn’t try.” He watched Edgar yet again, though there was no glare where Banshee expected to see one.  “He’s not a bad guy, you know? I don’t hate him or anything.  Hell,” he laughed, “Edgar is better to me than Johnny ever was.  But still.”

“Why don’t you like Edgar instead?” 

“That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” Jimmy answered as though the idea wasn’t new to him.  “But I don’t. It’s just Johnny.”

“Even though Edgar is a nicer person, and doesn’t hate you,” Banshee counted reasons on her fingers, “isn’t scary looking, and likes being around people?”

Jimmy laughed.

“You’ve spent too much time with him, Kleine.  You’ve got an Edgar bias.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I detect a crush,” Tenna chimed in.

“Ten, that’s gross,” Devi said.

“What about it? Edgar’s kinda cute,” Tenna defended.

“He’s like family, Tenna, you can’t do crushes on family.”

“Mythology thinks otherwise,” Tenna said smugly.

Banshee suddenly wondered if her mind projected itself without her knowledge. It would explain this horrific exchange and why Johnny had known about Tess the moment she looked at him.  

“It’s not…,” Banshee tried.

“Hey Edgar!” Tenna called to the back, “ I think now that Banshee’s old enough, we need to take her to the vet and get her fixed!”

“What?! Why?!”

Banshee was horrified for a moment that it wasn’t an outright protest, but a question of why it should be done.

“She’s got a cruuuuush,” Tenna sang.

Edgar looked alarmed, but mostly confused.

“Um, what?”

“It’s not just Tess that likes ‘em with glasses, apparently,” Devi said casually.

Banshee attempted to bury herself in her costume, but with growing and tearing it apart, there was hardly a billowy sleeve left to hide her face in. Jimmy told her that they were teasing and tried to tell Tenna to shut up.  She shot back something about Jimmy raping Johnny and then Edgar while he was in the neighborhood.  Edgar demanded to know why the conversation was always rape when he came to the front of the van, and was promptly labeled ‘rape-able’, to the dismay of all but Devi and Tenna.

In the meantime, Banshee felt Johnny growing unsettled and wondered when she had been able to feel things like that at all.

“Do you have to do things like this? Really? She’s a little – well, she’s a girl anyway. Tess is a different story, but this is a totally inappropriate thing to-”

“Rape-able.”

“Tenna, I can’t believe you! You were the one trying to shelter her from the beginning!”

“And look how well she turned out - she swears in dead languages now.”

“Greek isn’t dead,” Jimmy pointed out.

“ _Ancient_ Greek, Uncle Jimmy,” Banshee said wearily.

“Oh.”

Edgar continued to bicker with Tenna and Devi about rape before someone, Banshee didn’t catch who, played the incest card and Edgar let out a frustrated noise followed by an angry tirade that got everyone involved; Johnny even slinked to the front to add in his two cents on the matter.  Edgar’s song overpowered all of the others when he was angry enough.

Edgar kept saying the same few phrases over and over, but whatever they were, Banshee seemed to forget them until the second he said them again.  Her brain kept resetting itself and it worried her a little.

Several minutes later, she forgot what she had been worried about.

While the group bickered with its internal issues, the Homicides’ van had been sitting on the side of the road for some time and it finally attracted its inevitable visitors.  Banshee actually felt them approach and Tenna seemed to catch them out of her window.

“Guys?” Tenna looked worried, but no one noticed that she had stopped arguing.

Soon, voices that Banshee didn’t recognize grew louder and a pair of teenaged strangers appeared at the driver’s side window.

“Oh man, it’s really you guys,” the first kid said nearly breathlessly.  His friend stood beside him and appeared to be shaking.

“Yeah,” Tenna said. The others had gotten quiet and gave their full attention to the outsiders.

“Um, we just came from the show, you know, where Nny fell over an’ all, and, then – well, we just thought we’d make sure you were okay out here an’ all.”

“We’re fine,” Devi said.

“Um, you all in there?” The second kid asked.

Devi glared at them.

“Go the fuck home. We’re fine.”

“You don’t think you could sign these programs for us, do you?” The first guy, a red head, stepped closer to the door and Tenna’s joints seemed to lock up.  Banshee felt sudden panic and guessed Johnny felt the same.   When Tenna didn’t answer, Devi snapped that they needed to leave.

“Maybe just Nny’s?” Second guy asked. “You could let us in the back real quick.”

Johnny made a panicked skittering motion when the voices mentioned his name again.

“Get them the fuck out of here,” he told Edgar, mercilessly gripping the collar of Edgar’s shirt.

“Um,” Devi managed, stunned by how forward the visitors were, “I…”

“Come on, just let us in.”

Tenna was still unable to move, even when Jimmy kicked the back of her seat. Devi slowly became unresponsive, and the guys leaned nearer to Tenna, almost pressing their faces against the glass of the partially-open window.

“Get the hell out!” Edgar yelled to them. “We’ll call the police!”

“What, the ‘invisible people’ police?” Jimmy asked, sending mocking looks in Edgar’s direction.

“Fuck you,” Edgar replied.

“You guys sure you’re okay?” The teens outside asked. “Maybe you should let us in so we can help.”

Johnny stood from his place on the van floor and projected an aura of control over himself that Banshee hadn’t seen in what felt like weeks.  He crawled over Devi’s lap and pulled a long knife from the glove compartment.  Devi made no sound at all while Johnny supported his weight on her thigh.

“Johnny, sit down! Just roll up the window and sit down!” Edgar tried to reach to the front to pull Johnny down to the floor, but even Johnny’s clothes seemed to have taken on his talent for eluding capture. 

“Nny! Stop, sit down!” Banshee tried after Edgar. When Johnny failed her, she changed her plea. “Aunt Tenna, come on, get us out of here!”

Tenna gave no indication that she’d even heard Banshee speak. Johnny climbed over Tenna and rolled down the window, holding the knife at nose level for the pair outside. 

“Get out,” he threatened.

“Oh, glad to see you’re okay,” one of them said cheerily. “You want to let us in now to sign this? It’s getting cold.”

Johnny's reaction slowed, but Banshee's did not. Over the sound of Edgar's protests, she leaped into the front seat and sat in Tenna's lap, though she was unable to see much past Johnny. In a well-rehearsed motion, she pulled the van out of 'park' and rammed her heel onto the accelerator at the same moment that Johnny stabbed one of the visitors in the eye.   
  
As she tore away from them she caught in the back of her mind that everything in the boys' eyes, from the pupils to what should have been white, was black, and as Johnny's weapon dragged out of the red-head's face, black seeped down his cheek.

Panic swept over the van. Johnny fell into Banshee, who squashed Tenna, who finally seemed to realize that the world was happening around her.  Devi swore loudly and clamped onto the dashboard while Jimmy tumbled around in the back.  Edgar clung to the back of the driver’s seat grasping wildly at Johnny, trying to tear him off of Tenna and Banshee.

Banshee felt her hands on the wheel and the scenery whizzing by her on all sides. She felt the panic of the people around her and heard Edgar crying out about the knife in Johnny’s hand. Tenna shrieked from under her, but the shock of the last few moments left Banshee with a tight grip on the wheel.  Drops of rain hit her face and glasses, though she would have sworn they were small stones.

The van bounded over rocks and pipes in the ditch and Banshee heard the scrape of the van against the occasional bit of pavement as her total lack of control of the vehicle left the van swerving wildly.  Edgar managed to pry Johnny off of the pile in the driver’s seat and was thrown onto the floor with Jimmy when Banshee hit another drainage pipe.  

Tenna reached over Banshee and twisted the wheel from her grasp, steering the van onto pavement and then slamming it in park before nearly collapsing into the wheel.

Even in the almost dark, Banshee could make out Tess’ silhouette just beyond the hood of the van.

Banshee forced the door open and spilled out of the van when the door swung outward, adding another collection of filth and tears to her costume. When Banshee regained her balance, Tess was still standing there as though she was just waiting her turn at the DMV.

“Are you trying to get us killed?!” Banshee screamed.

Tess looked surprised.

“Says the fourteen-year old who was just behind the wheel.”

“What are you _doing_?! If you keep doing this stuff, Edgar is never going to-”

Tenna stumbled out of the van then and was taken aback at the sight of Tess.

“What the fuck is this?” she asked.

“Hi,” Tess said, waving weakly.

Johnny shrieked something from inside the van and moments later, the side door flew open. Edgar emerged, slammed the door behind him, shoved both Banshee and Tenna aside and demanded to know what Tess was doing.

“Nothing,” she said coolly.

“Like _Hell_ , it’s nothing!” he said, grabbing her sleeve.  “You know exactly what you do to him and you’re somehow able to stalk us even when our van is out of control?! What is this about?!”  He shook her angrily, startling her more than the yelling had.  Banshee felt like crawling in a hole.

“I thought I would tell you about what’s after him,” she said, her voice suddenly shaking and far less confident.   While Tess spoke, Devi stepped out of the van, but kept herself behind the open door. 

_“it’s my red star”_

 

“Unless what you have to tell me fixes him the moment you utter it, I promise you I’m throwing you in that ditch and letting Banshee drive.”

Tess looked frightened, but not of Edgar, or his threat to have Banshee crush her under the van’s tires.

“I don’t know if I can – I mean, I don’t know what it will do. It really wants to – but you’re right there and-” 

_“it’s my red star”_

She fell against Edgar then, as though she was used to snuggling against his ribs.  He backed away sharply, losing his hold on her sleeve. Tess almost dropped to the pavement, though she caught herself, one hand on her knee.

She adjusted her glasses and her posture after a moment near the ground, sent a glance in Banshee’s direction with an expression in between fondness and disdain, and then looked back to Edgar. Banshee felt sure that something had reached for her when she and Tess made eye contact.

“It’s-” 

_“it’s my red star”_

Her expression fell from calm into horror as she looked over Edgar’s shoulder.  Edgar and Banshee both turned to see Johnny standing beside the van.

“It’s _you_ ,” he said, bracing himself against the van’s frame. He pointed vaguely with the black-coated knife and shook it at Tess.  Banshee hoped it was for emphasis, but she couldn’t rule out that his muscles were exhausted.

Tess looked scared yet again, but just as before, it was not of the threat in front of her.

“No…,” she managed, slowly shaking her head.

Edgar seemed torn between restraining Tess and helping Johnny and consequently remained frozen where he stood. Tenna tried to suggest that everyone to just get back in the van and run over the nice crazy woman, but no one but Banshee seemed to hear her.

“It’s got you,” Johnny said, his voice struggling with words. “And it wants me instead.”

Tess’ panicked expression disappeared that moment and she smiled sweetly at Edgar. 

“Maybe we’ll tell you later,” she cooed, looking over the rim of her glasses.

Johnny made a noise and raked the knife in his hand against the metal of the van as though trying to use it to pull himself forward. When Edgar turned from Tess, she vanished.

_“it’s my red star”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Birthday Massacre - Red Stars [il attire remix] – The remix is kind of important, I think. It’s got a more mental/ambient feel than the original. I swear I’ll stop using this band now.


	9. Overdrive

Banshee stood in the rain, her shredded, too-small costume slowly clinging to her skin. 

There were footprints where Tess had been standing, but nothing else.  No footprints toward the spot, none away, just the shape of her boots in the soft mud.  Devi and Tenna searched for prints that matched them in the surrounding area, but Banshee was sure they wouldn’t find any.

Johnny was trying to articulate what had scared Tess so badly and what had prompted his appearance from the inside of the van but was having little success, especially with Edgar’s panicked attempts at both soothing him and prying the knife from his hands.

Jimmy sat inside the van, his legs dangled outside to touch the mud with the toes of his boots. He stared into the gravel-filled muck on the road, a distant look in his eyes. Banshee assumed he had seen what transpired from the inside.

“Did you see anything?”

Devi’s voice startled her for a moment. 

“She just vanished,” Banshee answered. “You aren’t going to find her.”

“It worries me to hear that from you,” Devi said.  “It feels like hearing it from him.”  She didn’t need to nod to Johnny, though she did it anyway.

Several cars drove by, and Banshee watched the scene around her temporarily illuminate with fluorescent light at the passing of each one. The lights gave everyone an eerie skin tone, if only for a moment. Devi had fallen silent, leaving only the sounds of Jimmy’s boot rhythmically scraping the ground and Johnny’s attempts at explanation to distract Banshee’s thoughts.

“She’s both of them,” Johnny told Edgar. He kept his voice low, apparently intending his words only for Edgar, though he didn’t bother with a whisper. “The thing from the wall and Tess.”

“What makes you so sure?” Edgar spoke quietly and calmly, but he didn’t have total mastery of masking fear.

“I can feel them. I know them both, and they’re both in there.”

“You’re sure it’s both?” 

“Ye-es,” Johnny whined.  He was still supporting his weight with the knife in the side of the van and his shoulders shuddered each time his breath managed to form words.

Jimmy crunched some rocks in the mud behind them, and looked up from his focus on the road.

“Johnny stabbed someone,” he said.

Devi and Tenna exchanged nervous looks and Edgar looked as though he had hoped no one else had noticed.

“It’s fine,” Banshee said quickly.

“People who aren’t Johnny don’t just come back to life, kiddo,” Tenna said softly.

“They weren’t alive, though. It’s really okay.”

Johnny seemed to realize that the others were talking about him again and echoed Banshee.

“It’s okay,” he insisted. “No one was hurt.”

“Nny, you stabbed that kid in the eye,” Edgar said.

“He’ll be fine. He wasn’t human.”

_Human._ Something about that word felt so different than ‘people.’

Edgar looked skeptical, so Johnny continued.

“Didn’t you see their eyes?” he asked.

“I was behind the seat.”

“They were black and they were all empty. Banshee saw them, too.” He looked at her expectantly, and she nodded enthusiastically. “See? Banshee agrees. Tenna and Devi, too.”

Tenna shivered, but nodded.

“They were…,” Devi said slowly. “They were really black.”

“I still think we should go looking for them,” Edgar said after a moment.

“No!” Banshee yelped.  “No, don’t do that! They’ll think you’re inviting them in and then they’ll… well, they’ll come in.”

“And do what?” Edgar asked.

“I don’t know,” Banshee answered lamely. “Something.”

“So there’s a kid with his eye oozing out of his face a mile or two back, and we’re not going to go check on him?” Edgar sounded as though he didn’t expect his band mates to do something _quite_ so bad.

“When this is what’s in his eye?” Johnny asked, removing the knife from the van. Traces of the black material that had seeped from the kid’s eye socket still clung to the blade.  “It’s either some supernatural space goo or the guy’s a zombie and we need to find a mall to defend.”

Behind Johnny and the knife, Jimmy pulled his legs back into the van and muttered something to himself.

Edgar moved to touch the black on the knife, but Johnny pulled it from his reach.

“Don’t.”

Something clicked in Edgar then, and Banshee was sure she saw it. It flashed over his face and was as obvious to her as his face turning purple would have been.  He hugged Johnny tightly for a moment, and some runny green make-up smeared near Johnny’s ear.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone.” Edgar spoke mostly to Johnny, but the sentiment extended, apparently, even to scary teenagers with black eyes.

“We’re fine.”

Banshee knew ‘anyone’ and ‘we’ were said, but she heard ‘you’ and ‘I’. 

When Edgar backed away from Johnny, he seemed to realize it was raining. He scratched at a few of the stitches on his face while regarding the people around him. Banshee thought he lingered on her just a little bit, though she may have strained to see it.

Johnny looked like he would fall over, but Edgar steered him back into the van before he got the chance to drop to the pavement. Devi and Tenna followed and waved for Banshee to do the same.  She hesitated at first. It wasn’t that she was particularly thrilled about standing in the rain, but she didn’t want to sit in the van where they would analyze everything to death or else pretend it hadn’t happened.

Minutes later she sat with the others, their clothes soaking the van’s seats, in silence.  Tenna hadn’t even started the engine, though everyone was settled and Devi had gone as far to put on her seatbelt. Rain drummed on the roof and slid down the windows, and the van’s occupants simply stared at it.

“Johnny stabbed someone,” Jimmy said again.  He’d repeated it to himself at least twice more since he’d first made mention of it. Banshee didn’t feel horror from him, but something much hotter.  It lingered around him and either he or that hot feeling wouldn’t let go of the connection.

“We know,” Devi told him, though she was staring out of the front window.

“I want to go home,” Tenna said, flexing her hands over the wheel.

“We can’t do that,” Devi said.

“I know, just thought I’d throw that out there. How about hamburgers instead?”

Banshee worried about Tess while Devi argued about the alleged meat content of various fast food places.  She thought she should have been worried about Johnny since she lived with him and they’d been friends before he started freaking out, but Tess had Banshee’s attention.  Was she sick? Was she being possessed by the thing Johnny thought was after him?  Was she lying about everything and really trying to hurt Johnny to get Edgar? Would that even work?

She didn’t want to admit to herself that she thought about it, so she told herself it was for science. Just in theory.  Would getting Edgar’s attention be as simple as removing Johnny from the equation?

The gods never seemed to have two male parents.

“And when they do, it’s an accident,” she muttered aloud.  No one asked her what she had said.

Johnny sat in the back, and appeared reasonably coherent. He was writing furiously on a tattered old notebook and making fierce underlines on occasion while Edgar looked over his shoulder.  Edgar nodded a few times, and then Johnny continued on for the rest of the page before checking on Edgar’s reaction again. 

The secret notebook sparked some kind of resentment in her and for a moment she wanted to tear it away from them. For all that Johnny was unsure and unclear out loud he seemed to be spilling words onto the page too fast for his hand to keep up with.  Edgar’s expression betrayed nothing about the book’s contents or his feelings on them until one moment when he looked a little pained and took the pen from Johnny to write something of his own. Johnny stared at whatever Edgar had written for several seconds before holding out his hand to silently ask for the return of the pen.  He wrote something slowly and deliberately when Edgar surrendered the pen, let Edgar see whatever it was, then closed the book and crammed it into the back of his seat.  Edgar seemed quietly pleased with the whole thing.

“Hey, Banshee.” Johnny’s voice made her name sound strange, even though he’d been the one to give it to her. She looked away quickly to avoid looking like she’d been spying.

“Hey what?”

“Tell me what you know about Tess.”

“Nothing. I don’t know why you fell over. I’m sorry. I’m not telepathic.”

“What else?”

“I already said: ‘Nothing.’”

“She died in my house once,” Johnny said flatly.

“I know.”

“She doesn’t like me much.”

“I know that too.”

“You like her.”

Banshee said nothing at first. How much of a betrayal would admitting her fondness for Tess be?  Would Edgar be as angry with her as he had been with Tess? Would Banshee be indirectly blamed for the state of Johnny’s brain?  Would she have to be unflinchingly loyal to Johnny to ensure attachment to Edgar?

“So does Edgar,” she finally answered.

“Or I _did_ , at least,” Edgar said. “After tonight… I don’t know. If she’s not in control, I can’t blame her, but-”

“She’s not in control?” Banshee turned to face Johnny and Edgar, unable to hide hope that Tess could be redeemed. Something in her flared up seeing how close they were, but it was suppressed quickly.

“I don’t think so,” Johnny said. “At least she wasn’t just now. When it’s the…thing, whatever it is, I can actually think over all the stuff it puts in my head, but when it’s her… With her, there’s nothing for me, and screaming for you.”

“The monster is easier to deal with than Tess?” Banshee asked, shrinking into her chair.

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded slightly and Edgar tightened his hold on Johnny’s shoulders.

“Soo…”

“So we need to turn this Tess chick into the monster and have Johnny slay her with the sword he pulled from the stone after he battles his evil uncle for the throne,” Tenna chimed in from the front.

“Wait, no, you can’t mean actually trying to kill her? You can’t.” Banshee passed panicked looks between Tenna and the pair in the back.

“Did _I_ say that?” Johnny asked, making a face at Tenna.

Banshee breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“So what really happens then?” she asked.

“I’m going to see what I can find out,” Edgar explained. “See if she knows what’s in her, or if I’ve been talking to it this whole time. Johnny will probably go talk to Pepito.”

Johnny genuinely smiled for the first time in at least a few days and elbowed Edgar in the ribs.

“You can’t even say you weren’t thinking it,” Edgar said, laughing.

“Maybe,” Johnny answered, pretending to be deeply offended.

“Was she the monster at the concert? Was that why she didn’t bother you?” Banshee tried not to sound too enthusiastic.

“We can pretend that’s why, sure.” Johnny shrugged.

“Only pretend?”

“I really don’t know what happened; only that it came through you.”

Banshee flinched and wanted to blend into the seat.

“We’re all pretty sure you didn’t do it on purpose, don’t worry,” Edgar told her.

“Do you guys want to go?” Tenna called from the front.

“Sure.”

“He-”

“We _know,_ Jimmy.”

The mood lightened considerably when Tenna started the van and got them on their way, though Jimmy remained a muttering reminder that things weren’t entirely right.

Banshee watched her reflection against the passing sky and felt only a vague connection to the face she saw. It wasn’t that it had changed so much, it was just clear that something had happened to the first reflection she ever saw to produce the face now plastered over the stars. 

If the gods ever decided to put the Homicides in the stars, she hoped the colors would still be visible.

“I thought it was beautiful,” Jimmy said softly to himself.

“The fuck?” Devi turned to look at him, and saw him sitting on the floor behind her.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Whatever, Jimmy.”

In the back, Johnny was already in the middle of some sort of story. Edgar listened to it quietly and seemed remarkably relaxed for how much he’d been worried about Johnny’s stabbing before.

“…and the ending says, ‘And everyone laughed. Except Tyr.’” 

Johnny and Edgar both laughed at the last line of Johnny’s story.  She wasn’t sure how, but Banshee thought that Johnny attacking someone, even a demon-someone, had brought Edgar closer to Johnny that he had been before.

She found herself wondering how difficult it would be to stab someone.

****

Tess was possibly possessed by a demon, Banshee had been growing more and more rapidly and Johnny was more frightened of a woman with a crush on Edgar than the monster that had nearly engulfed them all when they watched the wrong channel on the television.  The friend he thought he might have made was actively trying to kill, injure or mentally destroy the person Edgar loved most, and the girl that lived in his house had been giving him long stares.  

The hotel offered him the opportunity to pretend none of it existed.

There was no television in the room, as they had requested, though they could see, just as they could everywhere else, the shape of where it had been on the wallpaper. Banshee and the others got their own rooms and as long as Tess couldn’t pass through walls four stories high, they were protected from the things that ate at Edgar’s mind.

At least that was what he wanted. Johnny was making it hard to pretend everything was sunshine and glee. He was standing in the room near a small table making vague gestures at nothing and muttering horrible things.

“I think she’s standing outside. I think she’s trying to find a way in. I bet she can just get in. I think she-”

Johnny was stopped when Edgar grabbed him into a hug.

“Stop. Please.”

“I’m going to fall apart,” Johnny said, letting his head roll back to stare, open-mouthed, at the ceiling.  “Just collapse and my brain will boil in my skull and all the screws will come undone and I’ll just drop to the ground and it’ll crunch and then Banshee can pick up all the-” He gasped for air and coughed once as Edgar tightened his hold.

“Stop it. You’re going to be fine.”

“And Tess is harmless.”

“No. No, she’s not. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to die. You’ve done that already, and I’m not going to let it happen again until you or eighty years gives the okay.”

“I get a say in my own death, now?” Johnny asked, laughing. “How charitable of you, Edgar.”

“I’m serious!” Edgar shook Johnny until his head snapped back upright and he looked back at Edgar’s eyes.  Johnny looked rattled and scared, but focused. “If you want to do that stuff, fine, but I’m not letting something happen to you because of something I can’t control again.”

“Control? I don’t think you’ve ever been in control of anything.”

“Then I’m going to change that.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Do you have to insult me when I’m worried about you?”

“Sorry,” Johnny said, his head falling onto Edgar’s shoulder.  

“It scares me when you apologize so quickly, but thank you.”

“Sorry,” Johnny laughed into Edgar’s shirt.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Kill them all?” Johnny suggested cheerily.

“Can things just not end in dying for once?”

“No.”

Edgar stared at the shape of the television on the wall, Johnny still near-limp against his shoulder. When did things get this bad? So bad that televisions that he didn’t own scared him and people that should have been fans and friends were monsters and messengers of doom? Things were always tied up in these little dramas from Hell and he didn’t know why.  He felt pretty sure he’d done nothing to deserve them, and even if Johnny had, it had been a lifetime ago.

“I really thought she would be okay,” Edgar said to the not-television.

“Tess?” Johnny lifted his head from Edgar’s shoulder long enough to say her name before flopping back down. “I told you stalkers were a stupid idea.”

“I know. I just thought it would be fun, you know?” Edgar tried to jerk his shoulder enough to get Johnny to stand up straight, but there was no response. “I thought it would be nice to have someone like that – someone who I was… unattainable for.”

“It is fun, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s why you keep Jimmy around, right?” Johnny made a noise that Edgar imagined accompanied a smile. Edgar waited for a response from Johnny before he asked outright, “Did I treat Tess like you treat Jimmy?”

Johnny snickered into Edgar’s shoulder.

“What?” Edgar asked, trying to see Johnny’s face.

“Nothing.”

“No, come on, what was it? You do this all the time, it’s not fair. You can’t do that to people.” Edgar shook Johnny’s shoulder gently to try to encourage fully standing again.

Johnny took his head off of Edgar’s shoulder and smiled deviously at him.

“Yes, I can,” he said. “But maybe I’ll tell you later.”

“Do you think I could have avoided all of this?”  
  
“I _did_ tell you not to go see her, in case you forgot.”

“No, I mean, for real.” Edgar looked pleadingly at Johnny, who seemed suddenly uneasy.

“I don’t know what’s unreal about what’s happening now,” Johnny said slowly.

“Do you think I should have known better? Do you think me talking to her made this mess worse with you? Did I have any clue in those notes that she sent me that she might have been possessed by something that tried to eat me once?”

“It’s not your fault, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Edgar backed away from Johnny and dropped to the side of the bed.

“I guess that’s what I’m asking, yeah.”

“Then no.”

“This is fucked up. I was talking to her to help you.”

“Welcome back to reality, Edgar.”  Johnny hadn’t moved from where he stood.

“So what do we _do_?” Edgar asked. “I can’t just sit here waiting for things to keep happening.”

“We went over this already. You’re going to have to ignore it until you can talk to her alone again.”

“I didn’t want to wait for it to get worse. She’s got something going on with Banshee, too.”

“Banshee is the pure part of Tess’ _soul_ ,” Johnny said, waving his hands mockingly.

“If Banshee is the pure part, I am genuinely afraid for the rest of it.”

Edgar felt Johnny sit next to him a moment later.

“You know,” Johnny said, deeply interested in something on his knee, “Banshee gets bigger right around the time Tess does something to me.”

“What?”

“I think it’s me.”

“Do you think Tess knows that?”

“Are you not even going to question it?”

Edgar sighed, and looked away from Johnny for a moment before turning back to him. “No. Because at this point, I feel useless and I’m desperate for an answer. Tess making you crazy making Banshee bigger sounds just great to me.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow.

“‘Great’ here not actually meaning ‘awesome’,” Edgar added, falling back onto the crisp hotel comforter. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a while before Johnny spoke again.

“I don’t think Tess knows.  Her intents seem to be to drive me insane and then hop in bed with you as a reward. Banshee doesn’t even enter her equation. Unless she wants to be a mom or she’s got future lesbian vision and she’s trying to age Banshee to-”

“Do you want me to lock you out of here?”

“Just making sure you’re paying attention.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You get all stupid when we talk about Banshee.”

“I do not. Fuck you.”

“Do too. I say one thing about that girl and then you act like the protective parent you keep saying you aren’t. You’ll have to pick one soon before she’s a real teenager and doesn’t want you around anymore.”

“You mean after she’s done with _her_ magical crush on me? Because Tess isn’t enough?”

Johnny leaned back against the mattress, propping himself up with his hands.  His mocking expression matched his tone.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? I think the real mystery here is how you’re so damn attractive all of a sudden. Hell with this ‘Tess is evil and I’m going crazy while Banshee hits puberty’ business. We have a surprise heart throb on our hands!”

“I think I hate you a little bit right now.”

“You can afford to, right? Since they’re breaking down the doors to get to you, an’ all.”

Edgar tried to glare, he really did, but sudden realization interrupted him. He propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Johnny.

“You’re just… th-that’s-” he stuttered.

“What?” Johnny looked upset that Edgar wasn’t enjoying the game.

“Defense mechanism,” Edgar said.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You make jokes, usually at me, as a defense mechanism. You’ve done this since … pretty much forever. You don’t like – you think Tess is actually a threat.”

“She’s possessed by a nightmare blob, yeah.”

“Not that.” Edgar sat up to look at Johnny, who looked a little worried. “You think I might actually leave.”

“I think you’re on crack.”

Edgar found that Johnny’s subtle expression – one of ‘I’ve been found out’ - made him smile.

“You’re afraid to lose me,” he said with some satisfaction.

“Competition seems to be fierce. I’ve got to contend with a mad woman and some kind of freak teenager.”

Edgar touched a finger to Johnny’s jaw, steering his gaze away from the floor. “Stop joking for a minute.”

Johnny looked at Edgar, but said nothing.

“Okay, now really,” Edgar said firmly. "This stuff actually scares you.”

“My brain has been under attack by the same woman you snuck out to meet. That’s a little alarming.”

“Is this that hard for you?” Edgar asked, brushing the back of his fingers on Johnny’s cheek.  “Is it that hard to be direct about it?”

Johnny flinched at the contact.

“You’re presuming a lot,” he said.

“But I’m right.”

“Maybe.”

Edgar leaned away from Johnny, a little disappointed. He was sure he was right, but it still would have felt better to hear confirmation.

“What, not going reassure me or anything?” Johnny asked.  The defense mechanism that never truly went away was back full force.

“You apparently don’t need it.” Edgar turned to occupy himself with untying his shoe, mostly as an excuse to look away.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” Johnny said, “but it’s crossed my mind. Sort of have to wonder how long before what Tess tells you sinks in.”

“ _Sinks in_?” Edgar asked, turning back from removing his shoes. “It doesn’t need to sink in because it’s full of shit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“You weren’t even sure you authentically loved me a while back, and now you’re sure Tess is wrong?”

“She says you brainwashed me.”

“Okay.” Johnny shrugged.

“Which you didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“You tell me.”

“I didn’t.”

“There.”

“And you believe me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you, and she doesn’t.”

“Edgar?”

“What?”

“I want to destroy her before she destroys me.”

“Um…”

“I think she wants to take you from me. Syrupy as that sounds, I don’t intend to let her.”

Edgar saw Johnny struggling with what he was attempting to convey. He felt guilty that he enjoyed it, even if just a little.

“I’m staying where I am,” Edgar said. He was about to add ‘Don’t worry’, but thought that Johnny was probably not worried at all.

“Because someone brainwashed you into it?”

“Because I want to.”

“So what happens to your coffee partner?” Johnny asked, glancing at a wall.

“Well, I have to meet her at least once more, just to see what this all is. But if she turns out to be irredeemably evil or something, then… I’m not sure. It’s not like we can kill her and it turns out restraining orders can only be filed by people who are completely tangible.”

“I could try to summon Pepito from a phonebook again,” Johnny offered.

“I’d rather try to separate the Tess from the Wall Thing.”

“Pepito could do that, I bet.”

Edgar raised his arms, prepared to tear at his hair like he’d seen in so many of Johnny’s bad old movies, but the urge to theatrically pull his own hair out really wasn’t there.  He gestured dramatically at Johnny instead.

“What is _with_ you and Pepito?!”

Johnny looked surprised, but didn’t answer.

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Edgar asked. “I gave you plenty of opportunities with all the not-cheating I was doing.”

“I thought we’d go together,” Johnny answered with a shrug. “In observance of our traditional “Pepito, Fix This Shit” Pilgrimage.”

 “How many times have I expressed not wanting to go?”

“A few.”

“And yet… you still think I’m going to wait around to go.”

“Not really. I’d just rather you come with me.”

Johnny’s answer stirred in Edgar the strangest of reactions. He suspected they were from bad late night movies, or from extended bouts of making fun of greeting cards, but hearing that Johnny had ascribed ‘traditional thing I do with Edgar’ to anything, even if it was visiting the Anti-Christ, made him want to hug Johnny until one of them passed out.  He made the move to, but Johnny backed away from him.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Johnny looked genuinely alarmed.

“I _was_ going to hug you, but-”

“God, I thought you were going to bite me.” Johnny relaxed and leaned back into hugging range.

“What? Why?”

“You just looked like you were going to,” Johnny said defensively.

“That wasn’t the plan, no, but it could be modified.”

Johnny laughed. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Perhaps later then,” Edgar said, smiling. “We can get me some fangs and make a music video out of it.” A few inches away from his intended punctuation, Edgar’s plan to bite Johnny’s ear for effect was derailed by Johnny’s excitement about a vampire video.

“Shit, that would be great! We could do this whole huge thing with movie monsters, where instead of the vampire guy – Jimmy, definitely – it’s the weird Franken-zombie guy that gets… whoever.” Johnny paused and muttered a few things about damsels.

“I don’t think any of us have the required heaving bosom to do a vampire-themed anything,” Edgar said dryly.

“You always _were_ the boring one.”

“Can I ask you something?” Edgar looked intently at Johnny, and hoped Johnny wouldn’t take his usual kind of cue and say ‘no.’

“Okay.”

“Do you really just not notice?  I mean, I thought I was being pretty un-subtle, but I’ve been wrong before.” 

When Johnny didn’t provide answer quickly enough, Edgar continued.

“I know you see things other people don’t. I know you read people better than anyone else we know, and probably better than anyone we don’t know.  You know _me_ better than anyone, and I like to think that I have a fighting chance against Jimmy and Devi in Johnny Trivia. So how are you not seeing…?”

“I see it,” Johnny said flatly, slumping his shoulders.

“So you’re baiting me or something.”

“Maybe.”

Edgar grabbed Johnny’s elbow with a clear idea of what he was going to say or do, but lost said idea when Johnny jumped. 

“Do I scare you or something?” Edgar asked. “Did I do something?  Is this ‘pretending to be with Edgar’ version two?”

“No.”

Edgar pulled Johnny close to him and practically into his lap. Johnny didn’t fight against him and in fact seemed content to settle where he was tugged.

“Then what is it? Why not just say ‘stop it’ instead of ignoring me?”

Johnny was quiet save for steady breathing.  He moved very little but when he did it was to grip Edgar’s arm tightly, or to wind the fabric of Edgar’s shirt into his fingers.

“Johnny,” Edgar said with a sigh, “don’t just fall asleep to get out of answering me.”

“I’m awake,” Johnny told him.

“And?”

“I’ll tell you later, you’ll understand. Things are shaky.”

“Nny, seriously.”

“No, I really will.”  Johnny made forceful eye contact to prove his intent or his truthfulness or maybe just to catch Edgar off guard. “Maybe when you guess it. You should be able to.”

“But, I shouldn’t have t-”  
   
Edgar’s incoming protest died when Johnny kissed him. It was very possible the kiss was offered only to shut Edgar up, but by that point, Edgar didn’t care how they’d gotten there, just that they were and that Johnny wasn’t going to twist his way out of it. He tightened his hold on Johnny, even without signs of Johnny trying to flee the scene, though he did twitch a little when he felt Edgar’s grip.

“So,” Edgar said moments later, his breathing a little shaky, “can I guess?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” Johnny brushed his cheek against Edgar’s and remained with his face near Edgar’s shoulder while Edgar guessed at what Johnny’s issues were this time.

“You’re leaving me for Devi,” he said, his face against Johnny’s neck.

“No.”

“You’ve realized this was all a horrible mistake and you want out.” Trailed his lips briefly along Johnny’s jaw before Johnny twitched again.

“No.”

“You’re trading me for Jimmy?” he asked into Johnny’s ear. Edgar felt Johnny’s fingers tighten on his shoulders.

“No, that’s the same as the other two,” he answered, leaning slightly away from Edgar’s affection.

“Will you actually tell me if I guess correctly?”

“You won’t guess correctly until you guess seriously.”

“I think I’ll wait,” Edgar said, running his hand down Johnny’s spine. “Besides, it really might be that Pepito told you I was going to steal your place as king of the underworld, and if I guessed normal shit, I’d never know.”

Johnny smiled, and arched his back.  “Couldn’t hurt to check.”  
              
While kneading his fingers into Johnny’s lower back, Edgar asked if Johnny had suddenly had a religious epiphany and was going to go be Pepito’s maid. He honestly had no idea if it was the sensation or the idea of being a maid that made Johnny laugh. Edgar asked if the twenty-four hour zombie channel had lost funding.  Johnny tried to bite his head.

“Have they stopped making Skettios?” Nearly biting Johnny’s neck.

“Oh, yeah, you got it,” Johnny said, stretching his neck. “‘ _Oh god, they’ve stopped making canned pasta; don’t touch me_.’”

“Freezies cause cancer?” Breathing down Johnny’s shirt.

“Then shoot them into my veins, I’m going all out.” Deep breaths.

“Todd and Pepito are getting married?” His hands under Johnny’s shirt and tracing shapes of nothing on his stomach.

“No, and if they are, I’m going long enough to burn the building down.”

Edgar snickered against Johnny’s collar bone and felt Johnny’s arms across his shoulders.

“I know what it is,” Edgar said, suddenly serious.

Johnny looked doubtful, but attentive. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how I missed it before,” Edgar said, hugging Johnny to his chest.

“Um, are you sure?” Johnny sounded concerned and tried to pull back to look at Edgar, but Edgar refused to ease his hold on Johnny’s ribcage.

“Yeah, there’s no mistake,” Edgar breathed into Johnny’s ear. “Clearly, you’re pregnant.”

“AH, FUCK, I’m going to kill you!” Johnny screamed, flailing to escape Edgar’s hold on him. “ _Jesus_ , Edgar!”

“Oh no, wait!” Edgar exclaimed gleefully, squeezing Johnny tighter despite repeated blows to the head. “It’s that Banshee has told you that we’re really brothers!”

“Oh god, you sick fuck! Let me go!”  Though probably genuinely disgusted, Johnny was laughing. Edgar released him, still laughing himself.  Johnny scrambled off of Edgar’s lap and nearly pushed him to the floor in the same motion.  Edgar continued laughing until the muscles in his stomach hurt so much that they stopped hurting.  Johnny pulled him back up to a sitting position, though they were both still gasping at the air.

“Fuck, Edgar, what is wrong with you?”

“ _Me_?” Edgar asked, still half-laughing and short on breath. “You do this to me all the time.”

“ _Pregnant_? I’ve never stooped that low.”

“Banshee is your ass-baby from the future.”

“This relationship is over five minutes ago.”

“Oh, good,” Edgar said, casually brushing some hair from his forehead. “I was thinking I’d be good at the Deadbeat Dad thing. Lemme grab some clothes, stop shaving, and start drinking and then I’ll go spend Banshee’s college fund on hookers and gambling. Where’s Tess?”

“Tess is a hooker?”

“In the land of ass-babies, we’re all hookers.”

“Yeah, now I’m _really_ glad I retroactively broke up with you.”

“So,” Edgar said with a long breath, “you going to tell me what was wrong now?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Do I have to resort to mentioning Jimmy next time? Because I can.”

“Just wait, jeez.” Johnny blew some hair out of his face and seemed to finally be getting his breath back. “Why do I even keep you around?”

“I keep your mind open to the glorious possibilities that may lie in the future?”

Johnny looked disgusted and leaned away from Edgar. “Did you just put ‘glorious’ and ‘ass’ in the same category?”

“I wouldn’t be the first if I had.”

“I’m sure you could talk to Jimmy about it.”

“I’d rather not. I think I’ll keep the horror for just you.”

“Charming, thank you.”

Edgar leaned in and pressed his forehead to Johnny’s temple, still smiling, even though things didn’t go anything like he’d planned them to.

“You love me,” he said.

Johnny pushed back against Edgar’s forehead, and Edgar pulled away, disappointed that the joking hadn’t gained him a pass for random affection for very long.  Johnny looked at him and stared at him and appeared to be trying to bore holes through him until Edgar wondered if there was something gross on his face.

“What?” he asked, trying not to compulsively lick his teeth.

“I really do,” Johnny said, though he looked a little scared of his own words.

“A-”

“I really, really do.”

There was a distinct feeling in Edgar that this kiss would go the way he’d intended the original to go. Edgar figured that one day he would discover what made Johnny afraid of being bitten one moment and content to be kissed the next, but for now, reason still unclear, Johnny responded to every motion Edgar made.  If it wasn’t the mirror, it was the direct compliment. As infrequently as Johnny allowed any kind of intimacy, he had a bizarrely keen sense of timing it all. Expressions of affection were rarely awkward once Johnny permitted them and most often felt as though they had been choreographed in advance so that Johnny magically knew every possible location of Edgar’s elbow at any given point in time. It hadn’t been lost on Edgar that perhaps he was being manipulated to do things Johnny preferred rather than Johnny following what Edgar did, but Edgar liked to believe it was give and take. Johnny had probably never said the words “I love you” directly or without sarcasm, but Edgar knew they were there.

The simple intimacy aspect was most important.  The things the media and Jimmy’s porn told him were key relationship ingredients were really side notes that were often ignored. Sometimes there was an ache to go that far, to do something he was afraid would be filmed later or witnessed by a small girl needing a freak haircut or new clothes, but he would trade it for closeness. His original aches hadn’t been to pound Johnny into a mattress in a sub-par hotel; they were just to be there and be close and to be not only allowed there, but wanted there. Johnny was not terribly fond of going beyond simple intimacy and seemed to appreciate Edgar’s sentimental view of things. 

They were close enough, had been around each other long enough, that the shape of Johnny’s body was a very familiar thing. The way Johnny moved, what bones stuck out of him where and when, and how he carried himself were comfortable things. Edgar remembered the first time he’d noticed that Johnny was his default when Devi had hugged him after a particularly loud performance. Edgar had been surprised at how strange she felt, and the surprise remained later when he was given a ‘manly joking hug’ from Jimmy, and a ‘desperately hoping this is significant hug’ from Tess. Their shapes, their weights, where their muscles reacted most – all of it reminding him how much he concentrated on what Johnny felt like. Jimmy, he thought, would have felt similar, but Jimmy was just as foreign, if not more so, than Devi. There was something in the world, he thought, some knowledge he was lacking, that he made up for by knowing every bony angle of Johnny.

 He could see the bones move in Johnny’s back, could almost see where muscle was attached. When they were alone like this, he could see how all of the movements that looked so intriguing covered in rags were still just as fascinating as bare skin. Johnny had scars and marks on him that Edgar could never keep track of, and that Johnny swore just appeared and shuffled every few days. With his nails still painted black and the stage make-up he only ever made a vague attempt at removing still on the thin, shiny skin around his eyes, he looked unsettling and kind of malnourished. Johnny’s clothing hid so many of his bonier features that the makeup and nails only made him look appropriately scary on a parody level on stage – here, they scared Edgar just enough to make it a little exciting.

********

  
“I think it’s my fault, Ten.”

“It’s your fault Johnny has the crazy and a woman is stalking Edgar? I really need to hear the story behind this. Should I sit down? Popcorn maybe?”

“Don’t joke, I’m serious.”

“So I’m sitting then?”

“Tenna.”

Tenna flopped onto the hotel bed and sat cross-legged, a pillow hugged to her chest as though she was ready to hear scandalous secrets at a slumber party.

“You remember when she called me?” Devi asked from the other corner of the bed. “When she was telling me Edgar was brainwashed or being manipulated or whatever?”

“Yeah, you almost missed the Flying Dutchman Hour.”

“I told her to actually talk to Nny. I said, ‘ _Oh, you just have to know him!_ ’ or whatever. And it’s _true_ , Ten, you know it is, but I wasn’t even thinking when I told her that.  The whole ‘she eats Johnny’s brain’ thing just slipped my mind.”

“You shouldn’t have had to expect her to be some kind of brain harpy, Devi.”

“Edgar told me she had problems with Nny. Or that he had problems with her. I don’t know why I didn’t think that ‘problems’ meant more than mild distaste when it involved him.”  Devi sighed, trying to be preoccupied with undoing a hair style that she’d already successfully undone several minutes ago.

“You haven’t condemned anyone,” Tenna said, compressing her pillow. “If anything, Edgar needed to be a little more up front about the kind of ‘problems’ he meant.”

“So it’s his fault?” Devi asked, sending a wary gaze in Tenna’s direction.

Tenna shrugged in response.

“It feels better that way, doesn’t it?”

****

She would tell them she'd left a magazine or a snack in the van if anyone caught her sneaking back out, but what she wanted wasn't hers.  

When she made it to the van, she had to fight with the door to get it to open properly and she was worried the noise would attract someone, but the wet hotel parking lot was silent and still well after the noise of the door.  Banshee breathed a sigh of relief and climbed into the van, over Jimmy's usual seat and his snack cooler and to the rear of the van. She rifled through the junk stashed under the loose cushions on the back seat to find Johnny’s magical tattered notebook.  Since she’d seen Johnny using it to send silent messages to Edgar, she had to know what was in it.

Several worn pages of Johnny’s doodles in, the page he’d written that night sat waiting for her. The page detailed Johnny’s ideas for what was going to happen, and how he felt and how he thought Tess felt, and even how he thought Banshee felt. It was mostly wrong and ridiculous, so Banshee assumed this was not part of his secret message exchange with Edgar. Some of his ranting was totally unrelated to Tess and the issues at hand, and Johnny’s already scratchy and erratic handwriting degraded violently into illegibility as it progressed down the page. In a few places, his underlines sliced through the paper and as the writing entered a second page, actually understanding what it said became impossible.

Near the middle of that page, apparently mid-sentence, Johnny’s sharp letters stopped and larger, loopier writing interrupted with simply ‘I love you.’ Johnny’s writing returned underneath it: ‘I know.’

  
Banshee angrily scratched and cursed at the page and then shoved the notebook as violently as she could back under the seat, grabbed one of the random paranormal tabloids that were stashed in the cup holders, kicked the snack cooler across the floor of the van, hopped out, and slammed the door.  She didn't care who heard it this time.

****

He was reclined against the over-fluffed pillows the hotel had provided in various parts of his Homicides costume.  He still had stitches and wax on his arms, along with various lengths of stray fabric and metal bits that Tenna and Johnny had tied to his wrists, though his pants had been ditched as soon as Johnny noticed the neon paint smearing onto the blankets they didn’t own.  Johnny thought the neon would have improved the comforter, but Edgar didn’t want to pay for it, so tossed the shredded stage clothes aside.  Johnny had accused him of just wanting to take his pants off.

“Still going to guess?” Johnny was still adorned with the last show’s jewelry, but missing the shredded neon-stained shirt (that Edgar had actually wanted to take off, neon aside). He was lying next to Edgar, mostly watching the ceiling, but showing very little in the way of jumpy or distantly crazy. There was no looping vague reference to Tess or any danger of passing out among the ugly hotel comforters. No one would have guessed he’d stabbed demon teenagers from his van a few hours ago. He was just Johnny in especially tattered pants.

By Edgar’s estimate, he and Johnny were wearing a whole (ugly) costume between them.

“No, I’d rather there not _be_ any guessing involved at this point. I’m sure I’ll understand later.”

“That’s a lot of faith in me there.”

“You’ll tell me,” Edgar said, brushing his face near Johnny’s ear. “I’m not worried.”

“You trust me?” Johnny returned the motion, but laughed through it.

“Of course.”

“Even after I stabbed that thing in the fa-”

Edgar hadn’t meant to clamp his hand over Johnny’s mouth, but it had the same effect as the general shushing he’d had in mind. 

“Sorry,” he said, taking his hand away when he realized he had a grip on Johnny’s face, “I just would rather not focus on it.”

“You don’t worry about this regressing me into oblivion and whatever else?” Johnny asked, pointedly ignoring Edgar’s awkward hushing and trying to retie a filthy shred of fabric to his wrist.

“Give me that.” Edgar motioned to Johnny’s wrist and tried to grab it while Johnny pulled it away protectively.

“No, fuck you. I like it.”

“I mean let me tie it.”

“Oh.” Johnny surrendered his wrist and Edgar wound the string securely. He paused only slightly when he saw the bones of Johnny’s wrist for what felt like the first time.

“I _am_ a little worried about regressing, I guess,” Edgar confessed, tightening the knot. “It was kind of… not good? Seeing you stab something – someone.”

“They weren’t up to anything good.”

“You usually need a better excuse to stab people.”

“I told you,” Johnny said, pulling his wrist away, “they weren’t people.”

“I believe you. It’s kind of why I’m half-clothed in a hotel talking about cancer and ass-babies with you instead of having a nervous breakdown in a police station somewhere.”

“You’d turn me in?”

“Right in the eyes, Nny.” Edgar pointed at his own eye to drive the point home. “You stabbed him _in the face_.”

“So what, it’s okay if I stab him in the shoulder?”

“It takes a certain kind of fucked up to stab people in the face. Most people don’t.”

Johnny began a mocking mime using his hands as puppets. “ _‘When I stab, I always aim for the clavicle.’  ‘Really? I’m a stomach kind of guy, myself.’_ And then they go out for coffee when they get out of the office.”

“Okay, out of people who stab _regularly_.”

“Is there a serial killer channel on TV I don’t know about?”

“Like I’d show it to you if there was.”

Johnny sighed and twisted the rag Edgar had just tied. “Psychologically, yeah, it does take a special kind of fucked up to stab someone in the face. Men do it more than women, but people don’t like doing it even if they’re fucked up enough to stab in the first place.”

“This is actually not making me feel better. Have you been _watching_ a serial killer channel?”

“You said you believed me.”

“That doesn’t make ‘ _you stabbed someone_ _in the face’_ any nicer.”

“The eyes were the problem, so they had to go.” Johnny shrugged against the pillow underneath him. “It was just a logical solution.”

“What were they?” Edgar asked, trying to distract himself by tracing a pattern on the sheet underneath him. “The things, I mean, not the eyes.”

“They were just bad things.”

“I want to believe that’s it.”

“It’s all I know. I’m not gonna lie to you about stabbing some spooky fucker in the face. Banshee was freaking out too, you know; it wasn’t just me.”

“But this takes us back to _‘you stabbed him’_.”

“So we didn’t die. It’s not hard to grasp. And what the hell, you said you didn’t want to focus on it.”

“I didn’t. This always just seems to happen anyway.”

“Pesky, those stabbings.”

“It’s fine. The focusing is done now,” Edgar said, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. “Just keep the stabbing down to supernatural shit that’s going to kill us, okay?”

“You act like I’m shooting up with distilled essence of stabbing. I got over the stabbing people thing last life; I think I’m good now.” He sighed, joining Edgar in ceiling-staring. “Besides, if I’d said, ‘ _We need to stab them in the eyes_ ,’ who would’ve done it?”

“Some part of me thinks Banshee would have volunteered.”

“Heh. Maybe.”

“I’m afraid to look at the poor kid now,” Edgar said suddenly. “I’m constantly worried I’m going to look at her and trigger some kind of hormonal nightmare and she’ll develop weird pseudo-incestual Lolita fantasies.”

“Holy shit, I think I’ll be over here,” Johnny said, shuffling away from Edgar.

“With everyone saying, ‘Oh, Edgar she likes you!’ what am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?  Why is it just _me_?”

“Are you actually asking me?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Banshee is in the entirely unenviable position of being like we were, but not in the same age bracket as everyone else…yet.” Johnny paused awkwardly to consider Banshee growing even more. Edgar buried his head under a pillow and tried to sing Jimmy’s song loud enough to drown out thoughts of Banshee getting that old before the weekend. Johnny continued when Edgar fumbled the words to the second verse.

“So, you’re a thirteen-year-old girl,” Johnny said.

“Am not, fuck you.”

“Aannd the things you apparently need are parents and a love interest,” Johnny finished with some irritation.

“Oh. Oh, we’re hypothetical-ing. Okay.” Edgar emerged from the pillow and sat up to listen to Johnny’s reasoning even though he knew he was going to dislike where it went.

“Banshee looks at me,” Johnny held up a finger apparently meant to represent himself, “and thinks, ‘Whee, let’s be friends,’ or whatever.  She also tries me out for the parent and love interest role, because why not while she’s in the neighborhood, right? She runs into violently disinterested on both levels.”

“You were a total dick to her.”

“I know, but she’s not Lolita-ing over _me_ , is she?” Johnny held up another finger to add to his story. “So then, she runs into Jimmy, who she labels ‘uncle.’  You can’t be a parent and an uncle at the same time to the same person. Usually.”

“This asks why she’s hit me with ‘dad’ _and_ ‘love interest’, by that logic.”

“Just wait, I’m not done,” Johnny waved his hand in Edgar’s face, clearly more interested in delivering his speech than whatever Edgar was intended to get out of it. “So, Jimmy. Banshee goes to his house and goes, ‘ _Holy Mother of Ra_ ’ or whoever she likes at the moment, ‘ _this is a lot of porn and scary images of Johnny despite that Uncle Jimmy is nice to me! He clearly cannot be my dad or my love interest!_ ’”

“I am afraid to think of what we did to her by letting her stay over there,” Edgar said, picking at some wax on his arm.

“ _THEN_ she gets shuffled over to Devi and Tenna,” Johnny persisted, holding up two more fingers. “Devi, she notices, is a crazy bitch and doesn’t like to talk to people under a certain height. This does not a good parent make, and, unless Banshee is bisexual, the love interest thing doesn’t even enter the equation, especially when we look at Tenna, who is loopy as fuck and also makes Devi look sort of taken.”

“Nny, this doesn’t make sense.”

“She loops around to _you_ ,” Johnny said, extending his thumb, “and realizes she has run out of people who can see her and give any shred of a fuck. You are the one who read to her, and you’re the one who went and bought her clothes.”

Edgar flinched.

Johnny smiled devilishly. “Glad to see you’re paying attention. So you got to be ‘dad’ with no effort at all. In the meantime, she sees you with me.”

“Which doesn’t make sense if she decided against Devi because of Tenna.”

“It doesn’t matter; you’re the last hope now. She sees you with me, decides that either makes you a potential parent as someone attached to someone else, or decides that this is just showcasing that you can not fuck up interpersonal interaction.”

“You’re just making this up.”

“That’s possible, but you’re ‘desperate and want something to believe’ or whatever, right? So, now, rather than shut you out of either role, Banshee is just keeping both windows open and seeing which one you lean toward first since there’s no one else, in her mind, that can do what she needs them to do.”

Edgar stared at his knees for several moments. There were scars there from an adventure the others had taken him on during their first summer together. Devi and Johnny had tried to push him over a chain link fence, and managed to do so in the way that got the most broken links embedded in Edgar’s flesh as possible. Edgar wondered if he’d been ready, back then, to sway in multiple directions – Johnny as a friend, Johnny as someone he watched over, and Johnny as someone he fell for. 

If he’d been asked while lying there on the sidewalk, blood flowing in long lines from his knees, which way he was leaning, ‘Johnny as someone he ran away from desperately’ would have been his first choice.

“So she’s waiting for me to pick something,” Edgar mumbled.

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“She can’t think I’d…”

“I’m assuming that’s why Tenna brought it up and not Banshee herself.”

“Does she need to see me firmly attached to your side or something? Do I have to molest you in public?”

“If you try, I’m stabbing _you_ next.”

Edgar looked at Johnny, knowing it had been a joke, but still alarmed that the words had escaped Johnny’s lips at all. Johnny seemed to detect his unease.

“It was a joke, you know,” he said.

“I know. I know you wouldn’t.”

****

His hotel room was dark. The sheets crinkled underneath him when he shifted his weight and he was fairly sure the people in the next room were having headboard-banging sex against the wall behind him. The television was on, turned to a channel showing old horror films.  He had it on mute because he liked the whine televisions made when turned on, but liked what was actually on televisions significantly less. He only wished he could mute the people behind him.

Jimmy wasn’t even sure when he got into the hotel. The last thing he clearly remembered was being in the van and watching a tiny drop of black twist through the air and into the van’s front window. Since that moment, all he’d been able to see was Johnny and the way he moved among bullets of rain, stretched over two people trying to sit in the front seat, still managing to do what was needed, perfectly and precisely.

He had beautiful wrists.

Watching everything from the floor had simultaneously slowed and accelerated the events of the evening. Jimmy saw every motion Johnny made, every twitch of every muscle, every moment that passed in which Jimmy was so focused on Johnny’s focus that neither of them blinked and yet he still felt like he’d been so slow that he’d missed it.

_“never been hot enough”_

 Whatever ‘it’ was, it had been perfect, it had been genius, and it had been the art that Jimmy had screamed that Johnny possessed to the people who couldn’t hear him in the halls of their high school. It had been the thing that attracted Jimmy to Johnny in the first place.

He wondered if Edgar had felt this much fear when he remembered the first time he met Johnny. He wondered if Edgar experienced the same extreme version of bittersweet when he remembered himself and Johnny in whatever positions they’d occupied back then. He wondered if Edgar, like him, wanted both to be sick over the image and embrace it.

He remembered, though it was in pieces. The flash of a homemade killing kit. The rush of seeing a fleeting moment of artistry and the hopes that by imitating and following he’d draw the source of his obsession out of the infested woodwork.  He remembered that in this long ago world Johnny was underwhelming in person; shorter, darker, balder, thinner, and less mythical than the beautiful and elegant thing that had decimated the taco stand.

In his current life, Johnny looked as Johnny was.  Maybe it was because Jimmy had grown with him and was used to him, but he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than the Johnny he had – small, sharp, selfish, manipulative and exactly elegant enough to have executed an artistic stab to a pitch black eye. What had previously been Jimmy’s ‘underwhelming’ was now Jimmy’s ‘absolutely perfect’.

_‘ain’t never been hot enough’_

He thought about going into the hall and doing something dramatic that absolutely no one would see. He thought about the people he was sure his mind was trying to prevent him from remembering he’d killed. He thought about the girl he’d done far worse to.  Johnny had dealt with memories like these by retreating to Edgar or by beating Jimmy up.  Jimmy had no one to hide him from it and no one to take it out on.

The girl who was not quite so small anymore crossed his mind, though he wasn’t sure why.

Jimmy’s thoughts were peppered with slow motion images of Johnny, arched over Banshee and Tenna, holding a knife that held the light around it for only a second before being driven into black.  Thoughts of protecting Banshee had something like commercial breaks that only showed over and over how beautiful the entire act had been. Attempts to focus on music or on the pictures on the television were confronted with the shape of Johnny moving in abstract space.

He’d been worse than Johnny.  Johnny did what he did, beautiful though it was, out of mental defect, out of collapse of himself.  Jimmy’s mimicry was a mental illness, but the illness wasn’t schizophrenia, or even unspecified crazy; it was just teenage stupidity and a healthy dosage of bands that ‘spoke’ to him.  Jimmy had done more than kill in the names of his heroes (a band he couldn’t remember the name of and, of course, Johnny); he’d violated.  The rape had disgusted Johnny, and Jimmy had been so lost and confused that this man who was supposed to be his idol, his vampiric inspiration, was not only terribly un-vampire, but was sane enough to be drawing not just lines, but almost-moral ones. 

The illusion shattered with his ribcage.

He wanted to cry, not out of pain, but out of frustration and anger at how he’d died. That he’d done it to himself, that he could have been spared living again and again if he’d just fixated on a poet or a one of those people who pretend to be statues on street corners instead of a man who disemboweled (however elegantly) the patrons of a greasy fast food place.

****

She was very much alone. Alone in her hotel room, alone in her concern about Tess, and alone as a young supernatural sideshow freak for a show already headlined by sideshow freaks. 

Banshee heard Jimmy muttering in mantras to himself, opening and closing the door to his room, and narrating his own actions as though they needed explaining even to him. That feeling that had surged in him when he was in the van was still there, still refusing to let him go and Banshee felt a wave of it each time he ventured into the hallway.

Tenna and Devi had their own room and seemed to be capable of using warped girl-talk to clear their thoughts on anything.  If either of them had felt guilt or fear about the guys with black eyes, it was likely gone and well-drowned in jokes about sex, noodles or bad literature.

And Johnny and Edgar got through everything.  Edgar had been terrified of Johnny earlier this evening and was probably down the hall with his hands all over him now. 

“Maybe violence gets him excited,” she said aloud.  Thinking about what made Edgar excited both made her feel disgusted and wonder if she should be taking notes.  Maybe she’d give them to Tess?

The fish market looked appealing at times like this. 

“Just think,” she told the smoke detector on the ceiling, “I could know the differences between different kinds of salmon right now.” 

She had nothing – no parents, no origin, no magical memories of a past life, no other half.  It wasn’t that she was desperate for love and fairy tale princes.  It wasn’t even that she was playing the sparkly-eyed orphan longing for parents, she was just bothered that she had nothing connecting her to anything or anyone but a resemblance to Johnny. 

Of all of them, it had to be Johnny - the one who had been cruelest to her. She couldn’t look like Edgar, who actually worried about her (but still less than he worried about Johnny), or Devi, who cared when it mattered. No, it was Johnny, who cared only when it was convenient, suited him, and might make for a good story later. 

The worst part was that she wanted him to care. As much as she wanted to be able to clear Tess’ name of Johnny-killing evil, Banshee wanted to be in Johnny’s circle. The depths of acceptance the others gave her meant nothing if Johnny didn’t see her as part of his equation.  She wasn’t part of the Homicides, she wasn’t anyone’s family, she was just an extra. 

The white closet hadn’t been a good sign.  Her body randomly growing couldn’t have been a good sign.  Edgar forming an even more tightly cemented bond to someone who’d just stabbed something alive probably wasn’t a good sign. Even though Banshee felt fine about the stabbings themselves, Edgar worried her. 

Unfortunately, she was sure that no matter how old her body looked, she was too young to understand it.  When she closed her eyes, the red star stared back at her.

****

_“supersonic overdrive”_

Tess was not seen again at a show, or the side of the road. Johnny gave some weaker performances than his usual, but he remained standing and conscious through the remaining weeks in neon paint. He did very little other than performing and eating individually-wrapped cheese slices and no one blamed him. Edgar expressed the occasional concern that Johnny was sleeping frequently, but he also told the others he had a hard time being too worried that Johnny was doing something that was actually healthy for him. Aside from the cheese.

Jimmy was straining against something, and he tried to play through it.  Where Johnny was physically unable to give more to a Homicides show, Jimmy was emotionally required to channel himself through a guitar. At first, the others encouraged him, but three shows in, after he was once again unresponsive and incoherent in the face of praise, they left him to his German mutterings.

Devi and Tenna seemed fine. Devi gave the occasional passionate drumming, but little changed about her performance.  She wasn’t losing any elegance or slowing down like Johnny and she wasn’t trying to turn the drums into her vocal cords either.  Devi ordered take out, and Tenna made bad jokes and they got enough sleep and the others tried their hardest to find something wrong with both of them. 

Banshee dreamed of Tess often and shared the things she saw with Edgar.  When she talked about Tess, she always mentioned red stars. She tried to show Edgar a red star sitting in the sky one night, in order to make some poetic point.  Johnny told her, without even looking at the sky, that it was Mars. Edgar sadly admitted that Johnny was right when Banshee looked at him to say otherwise and tried to convince her to go on with her story anyway, but she angrily told him to forget it. She made a point from that night on to look dramatically away from Mars when anyone saw her staring at the sky.

Edgar tried not to dwell on Tess, but knowing that both Johnny and Banshee were being affected by her simply existing didn’t make it easy.

****

The radio cracked and the talk show that had been previously about aliens turned to the generally unexplained.

“ _Thanks for the call, George,”_ the voice on the radio said. _“That actually leads us to our next topic…”_

“I still can’t believe we haven’t heard from Dib,” Tenna remarked from the front. “I thought he’d be all over the alien thing.”

“It _is_ possible he’s not listening, Tenna,” Edgar said.

Despite the conversational attempts of Tenna and Edgar, it was quiet in the van save for the Dreaming Dan show. The end of touring around was near, and exhaustion taking a toll on them all. Johnny was on the fringe of sleep, and Jimmy seemed to be attempting to reach enlightenment. Banshee sulked more often than not, and Edgar was left feeling like Devi and Tenna were the only ones truly functioning on their own power and not on energy drinks and donuts.

“ _What’s you opinion on strange disappearances, Professor_?” the radio host asked.

_“Supporters of abduction claims typically cite their similarities to each other as proof that something bigger is happening. However, it is just as much a damning detail, after all, who would want to report an abduction that didn’t include a bright light or strange grey figures?  In truth, images like this are extremely common in near-death or seizure situations. It is just as likely, if not more so, that these folks have been having stressful situations to trigger seizure-like symptoms.”_

_“And what of the ones who have not been recovered from their abductions?”_

_“It seems to be that these young people just don’t want to be found, and like to spread a little urban myth at the same time_.”

“ _We’ve had calls all this evening from witnesses who say they were abducted. What do you have to say to them?”_

_“This kind of desire to be important – this attention seeking – it’s a common cause, but if they truly are experiencing these things, then perhaps a medical check-up should be in their near future. It is possible psychological issues are at work as well.”_

_“Sure, sure. Then, for the sake of argument, let me flip it around.  How do you explain strange appearances? Or is it ‘re-appearances’?”_

“Tenna, turn it up,” Johnny said, his face still buried in the seat he was attempting sleep on.

“ _Re-appearances, Dan?”_

_“Have you heard anything about the Homicides, Professor?”_

“Holy shit,” Devi muttered, attempting to turn the volume up more than it was able.

“ _Murders are a might different from disappearing.”_

_“No, no, I mean, that group of kids who make music that doesn’t stay in.”_

“Kids?” Edgar looked up from his tabloid. “Are we still kids?”

“I am,” Banshee said. Her breath fogged up the window near her seat and she rushed to wipe it off.

The ‘professor’ laughed. “ _Right, right. Well, you know, that kind of smoke and mirrors appearance isn’t exactly the same kind of thing as returning from an abduction, wouldn’t you agree?”_

“Fuck you, Professor,” Jimmy muttered.  Aside from yelling and singing along on stage, they were his first English words in days.

“ _I take it you’ve never seen them?”_

_“Can’t say that I have.”_

_“Can you hear this?”_

The show’s host went silent for a few moments and then a snippet of a Homicides song played for several seconds. Devi leaned closer to the radio as though she thought she was going to miss something with the station at top volume. When the song stopped on the radio, a hushed continuation of the words and rhythm still murmured through the van.

“ _Well?”_ Dreaming Dan asked.

“ _Nothing. I didn’t hear anything.”_

_“Maybe we’ll open it up to calls about now.  Call us at DREAM94 and tell us what you heard. This is Dreaming Dan, and we’ll see what you had to say in just a bit.”_

Dreaming Dan was replaced by an ad for a local grocery store and its newest genetically modified produce. Devi turned the sound down and turned to look at the others.

“We’re on the same show as Big Foot,” she said.

“I’m almost flattered,” Edgar said, laughing. “Now Dib will love us for sure.”

“ _You_ didn’t think he was listening to this,” Tenna teased.

“I said you don’t _know_ he’s listening. Not that he isn’t.”

The Dreaming Dan intro played and Devi jumped on the volume button.  “Okay, okay, shut up, up!” She turned the knob as far as it would it go. 

“ _And welcome back to the Dreaming Dan show, I’m Dan and we’re here with Professor Greenwood, who has been talking with us about the possible science and psychology behind the supernatural. Thanks again for coming in, Professor.”_

_“My pleasure, Dan. Thanks for having me.”_

Both their voices sounded hesitant and unsure. Edgar felt Johnny shift uneasily and watched Banshee turn her attention from the window for the first time in hours.

“ _This is Dreaming Dan, and you’re on D94, what’s your name?”_

“ _This is Chris.”_

_“Thanks for callin’, Chris. Where you calling us from?”_

_“Aw, I’m on the road, headin’ back from work and heard you guys play part of that song.”_

_“You heard a song, Chris?”_

_“Sure did.  That’s one of my favorites, man.”_

“ _You’ve seen the Homicides before?”_

_“Three times.  The first time is intense, man, you have to get that Professor out to see them. You givin’ out tickets or somthin’?”_

_“What did you see happen the first time?”_

_“They just came out of nowhere, you know.  Like everyone says they do. Can’t hear a damn thing, and then suddenly they’re just there.”_

_“Thanks for calling D94, Chris. Marcy, you’re on the air.”_

_“Thanks, Dan. Love your show. First time caller. Big fan.”_

_“That’s great, Marcy. So what’d you hear tonight?”_

_“My daughter and I listen to your show all the time, and she got so excited when you played that bit earlier.”_

_“Could you hear a song, Marcy?”_

_“Oh, of course.  I took my daughter to a show last summer. She and I just love J-”_

_“Okay, Marcy, thanks for your call. Gretchen, you’re on D94!”_

“How long are they going to sit there and prove that professor wrong?” Tenna asked, though it was clear she was enjoying it.  
   
Five more listeners called in to praise both Dreaming Dan and the Homicides, all while the Professor remained silent. One was a woman in her seventies, and Edgar thought for sure he’d met her in a grocery store once.  Another call came in from a brother and sister who spent more time bickering over who would win in a fight between Johnny and Dreaming Dan than answering any of his questions. A college kid reported that he and his girlfriend had heard the song, and a lady at work in a diner said she and everyone eating at Joe’s that night had heard it.

“People actually ‘Eat at Joe’s’?” Johnny asked wearily.  He was the only one who laughed at his own joke, though the sound only vaguely resembled laughter and leaned more toward the sound of drowning.

“ _So what do you think, Professor?”_ Dreaming Dan asked. The phones could still be heard ringing behind his voice.

“ _I think we’d need to look at where all those calls came from to know for sure. We have no evidence that the Homicides and their friends aren’t listening in as we speak, flooding the lines, though I’m not going to discredit this until I’m able to investigate further.”_

Devi and the others laughed.

“Too bad Johnny doesn’t have the old cell phone anymore,” Tenna said.

_“We’re going to take a few more callers, and then we’ve got a discussion about where your socks go when you put them in the dryer, and a woman who claims to have them all in her couch cushions. That’ll be at the top of the hour, but for now, Tess! You’re on Dreaming Dan!”_

“You can’t be serious,” Johnny said, struggling to sit up.

“ _Hi there.”_

_“Hey, you have something to say about the Homicides? You know the song?”_

_“I know it. I know them. They tried to run me over a few weeks ago.”_

_“Sure they did. Thaaanks for calling. Dave! You’re on-”_

_“I’m not done.”_

_“Yeah, thanks Tess, we got it.”_

_“I’m going to break Johnny.”_

“Devi turn it off, come on,” Edgar urged. He stole panicked glances at Johnny, who was moving, but almost too slow to be noticeable.

Dreaming Dan broke to a commercial, though Tess’ voice cracked through each one. Dan himself seemed to be panicked and kept threatening to call the police over advertisements for dog food and used cars.

“No, keep it on,” Johnny said.  He rose to his feet and stumbled his way to the front of the van. “I need to see.”   He looked back to Banshee, who was clinging to the door.  “Do you know anything about this?” he asked her.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

“Tenna, I think you should pull over,” Devi said, reaching for the steering wheel.

“I can get it,” Tenna said, dragging the van into a hard stop.

Banshee’s eyes were wide, as she listened to the endless loop of commercials. Johnny sat in the front of the radio, ready for whatever Tess was prepared to do whenever she was prepared to do it. Edgar grabbed Banshee’s shoulder and shook her until she turned her attention away from Johnny.

“Banshee, if what Johnny thinks is right, you’re going to grow again.” 

“He knows what causes it?”

“He thinks it’s related to Tess frying his brain. Just… brace yourself, okay?”

She looked at him, searching his face.  “You’re just going to let him do it?”

“He wants to.”

Banshee’s expression didn’t improve. Her eyes caught the street lights outside and while Edgar saw tears, he tried to ignore them.  “I wasn’t worried about _him_ ,” Banshee said softly. 

Edgar pretended to be out of earshot.

Dreaming Dan flickered back when the commercials looped a third time, but he was yelling something at the tech guys and not hosting a radio show at all.  His phones were still ringing persistently in the background and the voices of his lackeys betrayed panic in the studio.  Over Dan’s own panic, Tess’ voice came in with a small fanfare of static. 

“ _Hello. I’m sorry, but this is you or me, and it won’t be me.”_

“It has her,” Johnny said.

The onslaught of sound Tess unleashed seconds later hurt even those it wasn’t intended for.  She played clips of songs they knew, songs they had performed, songs Johnny liked, and songs Johnny hated all woven into each other with strands of Tess’ memory laced throughout. 

_“rollin’ back your eyes”_   
_“don’t tell your parents you’re here”_   
_“don’t cry out – **in this world of a million religions** \- cease fire”_   
_“freedom above”_   
_“run - **everyone prays the same way** \- away”_   
_“searching for the error in the system on this star”_

 

“You killed them.”

_“when I get through this part, will the next one be the same?”_   
_“augen auf - **try honesty** \- ich komme”_   
_“the lake it is said never gives up her dead”_   
_“gonna move- **cry agony** -gonna fuck up your ego”_

“Murdered mindlessly. I saw you torture them. I saw the news. I knew _._ ”

“It wasn’t mindless,” Johnny defended, though he appeared to struggle with the words.

The voices in the songs skipped and sputtered in and out of each other.  Tess’ voice remained clear over the sick weaving of noise behind it.

“ _this land is my land”_  
 _“I hear violins”_  
 _“how many times- **ten, nine, eight and I’m breaking away** –have I told you”_  
 _“not – **I’m all dressed up and ready** \- **to play** with fire”_  
 _“you say the most beautiful things”_

“You were a pawn to a wall.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Johnny spat, pointing accusingly at the numbers on the dashboard.   Edgar tried to pull him away from the radio, and Devi, once so eager to filter the radio’s sounds directly to her brain, pawed desperately at the volume knob.  Johnny gripped both their hands and attempted to throw them away from him. 

“Why did you take her?” Johnny demanded of the digital read-out.

“Johnny, it’s a fucking _radio_!” Tenna yelled over the scraping music.

“ _this land is your land”_  
 _“ **pay then I sleep by your side** ”_  
 _“gonna strike like thunder”_  
 _‘ **it’s easy when you’re big in**_ ** _Japan_** ** _”_**

“An ant playing for its queen.”

_“Alarmstufe Rot”_   
_“there is a song without a name”_   
**_“we all fall down”_ **   
_“I was me, but now he’s gone”_   
_“ **like toy soldiers”**_

“A tiny speck overtaken and consumed by the thing that you fed with others after it had already fed on you.”

_“when you’ve got talent, everything is free”_  
 _“viel zu schön für den Tag”_  
“ _the truth is somewhere in between”_  
 _“ _Réveille-Toi_ ”_

“She doesn’t sound right,” Edgar observed while there was a lull in the volume.

“It’s just speaking through her!” Johnny screamed to the radio’s display. His own song fought against the sounds blasting through the van. “That isn’t even _her!_ It can’t speak because it doesn’t have a mouth that I collected for it!”

Banshee made a soft cry in the seats behind Johnny and Edgar. Edgar watched her claw at the window and saw her face twisted from her stoic attempt not to show pain.  Though Edgar wanted to go to her, to say something or help her in some way, Tess’ voice (whether it belonged to her or not) kept him there on the van floor next to Johnny and Jimmy.

_“How long do you want to do this?  You know they wanted you to die.”_

Dreaming Dan’s voice crackled in and managed to announce fuzzily that there were technical difficulties, but he was quickly overpowered.

_“They’ve already replaced you here. Stop playing and let me save you from being nothing.”_

“I need a phone,” Johnny said.  It wasn’t loud enough to carry over the music, but the others heard it.

Without missing a beat, Tenna hit the gas.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are snippets of a ton of songs in here. The first one we see is ‘Le Disko’ by Shiny Toy Guns, and Tess uses it in part of her musical onslaught in addition to:
> 
> Creature Feature - Greatest Show Unearthed  
> Shiny Toy Guns - Don't Cry Out  
> Nightwish - Kinslayer  
> Ruslana - Wild Dances  
> Run Away from Key: The Metal Idol  
> Peter Schilling - Error in the System
> 
> They Might Be Giants - Am I Awake  
> Billy Talent - Try Honesty  
> Brain Claw/Nikki Jaine /Gordon Lightfoot - Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
> 
> This Land is Your Land   
> Conjure One - Center of the Sun  
> Squonk Opera - How Many Times
> 
> Alphaville - Big in Japan  
> Ani Lorak - Shady Lady  
> Peter Schilling - Alarmstufe Rot  
> VAST - Song Without A Name  
> Martika - Toy Soldiers  
> Apoptygma Bezerk's cover of Metallica's Fade to Black
> 
> Streets of Gold from Oliver and Company  
> Eisblume - Eisblumen  
> Fieldstone – Between  
> Thierry Amiel - Réveille-Toi
> 
> I wouldn’t say any one of them is ‘the song’ for this chapter. The hellish combination of all of them is more like it. Some part of all of them (except for This Land is Your Land) has made them songs I’ve considered for inclusion (and included!) or associated with the Homicides or writing this mess.


	10. Liar

Johnny hadn’t moved for days.  Edgar had done nearly the same. Banshee expressed concern, though not without some bitterness. Nothing Edgar could say to himself could convince him that Banshee hadn’t been changed by the whole thing. She seemed to have altered her appearance as drastically as she was able just to serve as a constant, nagging reminder of what had happened.  When she wasn’t quiet and hiding in her room, she was lingering in doorways, watching him, but pretending she wasn’t.

Edgar spent time watching Johnny lie asleep among a mountain of blankets and pillows.  Johnny should be sleeping this much, Edgar reasoned, given the way he faked being fine for audiences and worked his system so badly.  As much as Edgar repeated this, often aloud, he knew it wasn’t merely recuperative sleep.

He and the others had tried frantically to draw a response from Johnny when he continued screaming at a dial tone that wasn’t there. They’d dragged him from the phone, which Edgar had decided not to mention wasn’t even connected, and tried to get his eyes to focus on something.  The only connection Johnny had seemed to make was with Banshee, who glared in response.  No longer pointedly looking away from things that bothered her about Johnny, she had stared needles into him for the duration of their time in the van. 

“Who is it?” Banshee asked from the bedroom doorway. Edgar blinked, taking in the waves of green blanket around him and the stack of pillows threatening to engulf Johnny’s skull.

“Who?”

“Which god?”

“I don’t know,” Edgar answered, keeping his gaze low. “Whoever’s listening, I suppose. I think it’s been different every night.”

“They all said no?”

He shook his head gently. “No, they just made executive decisions. Who do you think would want him?”

“Kali, maybe,” Banshee said, shrugging. Her ragged excuses for clothing provided sparse coverage for what appeared to be a wild and angry attempt to restrain the breasts that had emerged during her last growing incident. Edgar didn’t want to think she’d grown that much and for now happily played into Banshee’s insistence that nothing about her chest had changed at all.

“ _Kali_? Really?” Edgar asked.

“Or maybe we could feed him to Ammit,” Banshee spat.

“Banshee, he didn’t-”

“Yeah, he’s completely innocent. Poor baby, too tired from letting a monster he found in a hotel eat his brain and stretch the skeleton of teenage girl.”

“I-”

“Don’t get me started on _you_ ,” Banshee growled. “You _let him._ ”

Edgar sighed.  The sooner he assumed some of the guilt for the situation, the sooner Banshee would feel better. And in truth, he told himself, he wasn’t entirely innocent.

“Think he’ll wake up?” Banshee asked, apparently satisfied with Edgar’s shame for now.

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“No.”

****

 

Tenna drove recklessly, aided by Johnny’s barked orders to turn here and swerve there.  He braced himself with a hand against the radio and prevented the others from adjusting the volume. When he saw a pay phone, he wrenched the wheel from Tenna’s hand, startling her into an abrupt break at the edge of the road. 

Johnny threw himself out of the van and began fumbling in his layers of clothes for pockets of change.

“What’s the number?” Johnny demanded, gesturing for the answer to be presented to him.

“For Dreaming Dan? You can’t just-”

“It’s dream ninety-four,” Jimmy interrupted. His voice was steady and deliberate. “DREAM94.”

“Good,” Johnny answered.  He didn’t count the change in his hands, since it seemed to be jumping from his palms, but just shoved the coins violently into the slot of the pay phone. Several smaller coins dripped to the ground.

“Nny, this is not a good idea.”  Edgar. Of course. 

“You don’t even know what the idea is.”

“But it’s still not good.”

The number to dial Dreaming Dan seemed to echo from the buttons. Johnny was greeted with a busy signal for a few moments and then the sound coming from the nearby van broke through the receiver as well.  Johnny flinched at the intensity of it, felt it loop into him almost immediately and heard, faintly, songs from those in the van. 

“Why did you take her?!”  Johnny felt the music change with his question and though he could feel it pulling on things it shouldn’t have been, he could also feel that he was about to get an answer.

“ _Our desires seem to have coincided for the time being._ ”

“Johnny, what did you do? The station cut out!” The songs from the occupants of the van intensified, but not maliciously.

“What do you want?” Johnny persisted through the pain in his head. He could feel it sitting in there, prying open little things that had previously only been bothered by a closet in his bedroom.

“ _We need to be friends again.”_

“We never were! You did _things_ to me!”

The others in the van said something else, trying to help or something. The music on the phone got louder and tried to strangle the sounds of shoes, happiness, progress and being hot. Words were trying to fit themselves where words were not welcome. He could see the sneaking threads crawling through the phone.  They’d stopped leaking out of the speakers in the van, and the songs of the others kept them safe from the invasion. Except perhaps Banshee, who had other things to worry about. 

_“We worked together. You and I deserve each other.”_

“What are you doing here? Why are you following me? Where did you find her?”  He felt sure he was only asking one question, even if it manifested as three.

_“This is the way we belong. You can let me out of her, and this will all stop.”_

“What kind of fuckery is that?  You want to appeal to someone to save the creepy bitch, then talk to Edgar! I don’t care what happens to her!”

The voice that was not quite Tess laughed gently. “ _I didn’t mean her,_ ” it said sweetly. “ _I mean only that if you let me out, the things happening to you will stop.”_

“Because you’ll be eating my brain again! What kind of idiot do you take me for?” The sounds the voice emitted that weren’t words stung behind his eyes.

_“The same one that never fought back last time.”_

“I’m not him!”

_“So say we all.”_

Something grabbed him and he whirled around to crack the phone receiver into the side of Devi’s head. She shuffled backward a step or two and said something Johnny couldn’t hear.  Jimmy came up behind him and hugged Johnny’s arms to his sides while Devi pried the phone out of his hand.  Johnny hardly noticed Edgar, and he wasn’t sure what Edgar was even doing there.  Banshee and Tenna looked at him from the van’s open door and he slid back into Jimmy’s chest, the sky swirling out of view around him.

“Jimmy?!” he shrieked when he sat up abruptly among piles of blankets.

“Can’t say I was expecting that.” 

Edgar was sitting beside him and Devi and Jimmy were nowhere to be found. Banshee and the van and the sky and the phone were missing too. Johnny felt his breath sharply in his lungs, perceiving the inflation of them for the first time since coming back to life.

“How long was that?” Johnny asked, feeling every tiny wisp of air as he breathed.

“A few days,” Edgar answered. “Are you okay? Dizzy or anything? Going to vomit blood?”

“I’ll let you know,” Johnny said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m starting to feel like some fucking blushing maiden, with all this passing out I’m doing.”

“What do you remember?”

“Everything, I think. I called Tess. Or the wall thing. On Dreaming Dan. And then…”

“And then?”

“You guys all grabbed me.”

Edgar sighed and twitched an eyebrow. He might as well have glowed ‘NO’ in some kind of neon color.

“That isn’t what happened, is it?” Johnny asked.

“Not completely, no. You weren’t talking to anyone. Dan cut the station almost as soon as you got out of the van.”

“I heard it for-”

“We know, we all watched you scream into that phone,” Edgar said. “Thing is, it wasn’t even working.  The cord was cut, and the change you put in rolled right out of it. You didn’t even seem to notice.”

“I _didn’t_ notice,” Johnny replied, trying to see the events clearly in his mind. He thought, absently as he scratched at his lip, that it was a waste of seventy-five cents.

“I’m going to try to find her,” Edgar said. “If you really talked to her, then she can’t do this stuff to you. If she didn’t…”

“Then _I’m_ doing this stuff to me.”

“Yeah.” Edgar clasped his hands and glanced around the room before looking back at Johnny. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Of the guy who just lost days of his life? Classy.”

“Yeah. I need you to stay home. Don’t do anything stupid or go anywhere until we get this Tess thing worked out.”

“We cancel more shows?”

“Not a lot. People are all saying you’re dead again anyway and I think the fans eat that up. They’re selling T-shirts, I hear. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we have to do this touring around thing anyway – it’s just to mess with people by now. Just stay home.”

“Are you going somewhere that you can’t police my staying at home?”

“I have a few things to do.”

“I can watch him,” Banshee piped up from somewhere in the hall. She walked to the door and leaned dramatically into the doorframe. Most of her hair was gone, save for a long green strip running from her forehead to the back of her skull.

“Watch me?”

“Yeah, do I look old enough to handle that kind of thing yet?” Banshee asked, gesturing to her taller, more adult body.

“Banshee, stop,” Edgar said, rising from the bed.  He reached out to Johnny to do something – Johnny thought it was to pat his head or something equally weird – but he stopped mid-motion. He smiled at Johnny instead and then turned to Banshee. Johnny felt something like pity or condescending indulgence, not directed at Banshee, but at himself. Something in the back of his mind flared up and wanted to react violently and immediately.

“Would you mind?” Edgar’s tone with Banshee wasn’t authoritative, or even simple asking. Instead, he sounded afraid to tread somewhere he was unwelcome.

“No.”

The thing in Johnny’s brain was not going to gain physical control, but Johnny had to agree with it on an emotional level. “She’ll try to poison me or something, Edgar. Look at her!”

Banshee made a mocking ‘rawr’ and mimed claws with her fingers before turning to say she was going to make something for dinner. Edgar called after to say he’d be joining her.

“Just stay where she can’t eat your brain, okay?” Edgar’s expression asked far more than his voice.  Johnny nodded, tossing the layers of blankets from his legs. Even if he really wanted to be violent, his body wasn’t going to let him, at least not at that particular second. Edgar looked alarmed that Johnny was attempting escape and behaved as though he anticipated having to catch something as Johnny swung his legs out of bed and tried to stand.

“Where are you going?” Edgar asked, clearly struggling with whether he wanted to offer his arms as support.

“I haven’t peed in four days.”

****

Banshee shuffled and slid around the kitchen, grabbing things from cabinets she hadn’t been able to reach a few months ago. Edgar watched her slide across the floor in her mismatched socks and patchwork clothing several times before he said anything.

“You’d look less like him with a chest, you know.”

She stopped sliding abruptly, whisk in one hand, small package of pudding in other. She looked up at Edgar slowly. She had painted around her eyes and on the sides of her head. Standing there like that, glaring at Edgar, and making pudding for dinner, she wasn’t avoiding any comparisons to Johnny.

“Do you want to see Devi and Tenna about it?” Edgar asked.  He’d expected the bra conversation to be full of more drama and more ‘Eww, no, you touch it!’ and more treating Banshee like she was a leper. There should have been lots of blaming Edgar and even more mocking, but Edgar felt as at ease as he would have were he talking about toast, or, in this case, pudding.

“They shouldn’t even _be_ here,” Banshee said bitterly.

“But they are. And sources tell me they don’t melt into your body if you put pressure on them overnight.”

“But I can ignore them. That’s working so far.”

“This actually looks like ‘lavishing attention’ to me.  Maybe negative attention, but attention regardless.”

Edgar watched her resume her pudding making activities, though her movements looked stiff and strained. She turned back to him a few seconds later and made an attempt at a scowl.

“Are you still here?” Maybe learned from Johnny?

“Where was I going to go?”

“Someplace where my chest was not part of the conversation.”

“It’s going to get worse than your chest, you know.”

“Don’t you think I know anything?” She pointed accusingly in Edgar’s direction with the dripping whisk. “I read! I know! At least I’m prepared this time! Not like with my _teeth_ , which was great of you guys.”

“You’re blaming us for not knowing that your face would explode?”

“I can’t be the only person you’ve ever known who lost teeth.”

“Considering I started existing at age ten…”

Banshee spun back around to her bowl in frustration, flinging droplets of chocolate batter across the kitchen floor. She attacked the mixture violently, as though it had insulted her or she was trying desperately to form it into a sphere.

“What are you going to do with Tess?” she asked.  She apparently saw no need to stop her relentless assault on the bowl, so Edgar talked over the sounds of the metal clashing.

“Just see if I can find her. Check all the usual hangouts. Alert Devi.”

“Don’t hurt her or anything, okay?” Banshee said, pausing in her assault of the pudding bowl.

“Devi? Are you kidding? She’d eat me alive.”

“No, Edgar. Tess.”

He didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, and what he could say, but what he should say was missing.

“We’ll see what happens,” he managed.

****

Banshee climbed the stairs slowly, even though she wanted desperately to take advantage of her newfound height and scale them two at a time.  She was scared to think it in words, but she thought doing anything too extreme with her body would trigger the rest of it to grow up, and from what she had read, that was something she was lucky to have not encountered so far.

Johnny remained in the pillow-y sea of bedding that Edgar had heaped on him while he was asleep. The television was on and showcasing a claymation short while Johnny ignored it, seemingly working hard at tying his fingers together. Banshee watched him for several seconds, assuming that he knew she was there, but was choosing to ignore her. She leaned herself against the door frame, crossed her arms, and tried her best to send waves of disapproval in Johnny’s direction.  

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making sure the universe doesn’t come unstitched at Ragnarok,” he replied, his concentration fully on his swollen finger tips.

“For real.”

“Watching my fingers swell up when I cut off the blood flow.”

“I liked the other one better.”

Johnny exhaled sharply and dropped his hands into his lap. He turned to look at Banshee standing in the doorway behind him. Banshee guessed he felt the waves.

“Aren’t you here to stab me with something? Yell at me about how my brain made your body go nuts?”

“Did you know it would do that?” she asked. She tried to be as restrained as possible, since it was very likely Johnny would find the best possible way to upset her in the quickest possible time.

“I didn’t know. I thought it would.”

“And you did it anyway.”

“Okay, look,” Johnny said angrily, tossing blankets aside. “My brain, the stuff that’s in it, the stuff it can’t remember, the stuff that keeps coming in anyway, and that fucking closet?  They could destroy me.”

“And you don’t think-”

“You will not die from breasts.”

Banshee took half a step back and wrinkled her nose at the comment, but shook it off.  “You could have _told_ me!”

“Edgar told you.”

“But no one asked how I felt about it, or even if it was okay?”

Johnny bowed slightly in her direction and pressed his hands together in mocking prayer. “‘ _Oh, Banshee, Empress of the Van, is it okay if Johnny tries to stop the crazy woman who wants to eat his brain and sleep with Edgar?_ ’”

“You think Tess wants to sleep with Edgar?”

Johnny scoffed. “You don’t?”

“Tess...” Banshee tried to explain, but could come up with nothing but Tess’ name for some time.  Johnny waited for her.  “Tess is good. Tess belongs with us.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “So ‘good’ is eating my brain, then?”

“So she doesn’t _like_ you!” Banshee exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “What is the big deal? The whole rest of the world _adores_ _you!_ ”

“This is more than mild dislike. She’s coming after me, in case you missed that. Weird phone calls? Loudspeakers? Radio shows?”

“So Tess calls a radio show, which you could have ignored, by the way, and you do _this_ to me?”

“Yeah, Banshee,” Johnny said, turning back to the television. “I really just wanted you to grow boobs.”

“Is everything about you?”

“Is everything about your chest?”

“NO! It’s not about the breasts; it’s not about the bleeding, or the nails, or the pain or the hair or the teeth! You’re just a _bastard_!” She pounded her fist against the door frame and squeezed her eyes shut. “I was a goddamn teenage girl! I still am! What the hell are you trying to put me through?!”

Johnny whirled around and off of the bed faster than Banshee thought he should have been able. He glared into her eyes from only inches away.

“I am not trying to put you through anything. I don’t give a shit what happens to you, okay? On the micro-scale, you growing into womanhood at last doesn’t mean a fucking thing, only that Edgar isn’t devastated because you’re dead. You’re not my damn kid, or my magic sister from the future; I don’t owe you anything.”

Banshee’s eyes widened, and something in her chest constricted on her lungs.

“We were _friends_ once,” she gasped. It sounded lame, and she knew it, but it came out anyway.

“I can be your friend and not give a damn if you have a chest.”

“It’s not about the chest!”

“Are you sure? We keep coming back there.”

“This is willful abuse! You think this is okay for a kid to go through?  How old was I last month? How tall?”

“I don’t know! Ask Edgar to break out the baby book! What, now you look legal enough to get tattooed and smoke crap like all the other ratty kids? Well, _shit_ , Banshee, hard times.”

She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, make him see that he had done something without even thinking that he would hurt her in the process.

“Why are you like this? Why are you okay with hurting people? Growing like this over a few minutes fucking _hurts_!”

“Because it could be a lot worse. I could be killing you all. Count your two blessings,” he shoved her back with a hand to her chest, “and shut the fuck up.”

“Then…then, what about Tess?” She wasn’t giving up on the entire argument.

“What about her?”

“Edgar is talking to her now, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

Johnny sighed, and dropped a handful of tangled string to the floor. “I think he’ll wimp out like he always does and come back telling us his _new_ ineffective plan.”

“You don’t think he’ll get her? Get that thing out of her?”

“You think Edgar can do that? That’s cute.”

Banshee’s nostrils flared and she did everything in her power to keep herself from stamping her feet. “Is that what you think of him? He talked to Tess because he thought she could _help_ you!”

Johnny looked across the room to the closet. “I have no delusions about the kinds of things he can do.”

“So everything has to be solved by you, then?” Banshee felt the first argument returning, but felt more ready for it this time. “You’re just going to let Edgar flounder around until he fails at helping you, and then save the day with your broken head?”

“My broken head isn’t helping anybody! But no one’s helping my head either!”

“Yes we ARE!” Banshee shrieked. “Edgar carried you all the way up these damn stairs and piled all the blankets in the house on you! The others cancel doing things they like to do because they worry about _your fucking head!_ ”

“And yet here you are, bitching about your _bones_!”

“Bone pain,” Banshee said firmly, latching her hands onto Johnny’s forearm, “is the worst pain you can feel.”    
  
Johnny pulled back against her grip, but Banshee held it tight. She slid one hand down to Johnny’s wrist and twisted as hard as she was able. Johnny let out a noise better fit to spill from an animal. He tried to spin away from her to lessen the twist, but Banshee was persistent.

“This isn’t even your bones!” Banshee taunted. “This is just everything attached to them! And guess what?!” She quickly changed the direction of the twist so that Johnny’s attempts to lessen his pain would only help increase it.  He swore loudly and tore at her arms with his free hand. 

“Those grow too,” Banshee finished. She’d been unable to do what she really wanted to do when she started, but thought either she would lose the will, or Johnny would lose what motivated her.

With the release of his arm, Johnny staggered backwards, desperately rubbing his wrist. He was nearly doubled over, cradling his arm, glaring up at Banshee.

“This is your plan, is it?” His breath was heavy between words. “Going to break my arm and then Edgar will like you best and you’ll have a real family at last?”

“That’s not what this is about! Do you even fucking listen? You put me through torture! On purpose!”

“And you’ve returned the favor.”

“Like that even compares.”

“What, you want me to grow boobs too?  Maybe then we can be twins.”

Or no one would lose anything, and she would have to try again.

Banshee screamed something incoherent, and then a few things in German. Johnny waited while she caught her breath. She stood in the doorway, chest heaving and lungs burning, waiting for him to do something in response, but aside from adjusting his posture and his gentle grip on his own arm, he did nothing.  They stood, blinking at each other, while soft wisps of Johnny’s song lingered around them.  Banshee had never heard it without Edgar around, nor without Edgar’s song firmly tangled in it.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asked angrily.

“Nothing! I’m standing here like a moron, just like you are!”

“You’re putting words in it!”

“What?”

“Listen!” he spat, nodding to some place vaguely over his head.

And so she listened.  She heard Johnny’s song, with all its conflicting, folding parts just as she always did, though it was uninterrupted and clearer than usual. Around the edges of it, creeping in as though they were only burning the corners of the tune were soft words. Banshee couldn’t make them out, and didn’t know them.

“I’m not doing it!” she protested.

“You have to be! I don’t have any words!”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“It’s still true! I _know_ those aren’t mine.”

Banshee felt the words drift away, though they were barely perceptible to begin with.  Johnny listened for them for a few moments after they disappeared. His eyelids flickered when he was sure they were gone, though he still quietly regarded the floor for a few seconds after the words vanished.

“Maybe we imagined it,” he said quickly, rubbing his bruising wrist. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

Just like that, at least for the moment, her animosity toward Johnny vanished; and as much as the guy whose arm she’d just tried to break could be, he was her best friend in the world. They made some sloppily constructed sandwiches together while singing and finishing the latest song that Johnny had ruined by collapsing.

“Do you want cheese on yours?”

****

Edgar had been unable to find Tess when he went out, so coming back to Johnny’s arm nearly twisted off did not improve his mood. However, he told Banshee that he was happy that she and Johnny seemed to be friends again, and even managed to excuse her violence against Johnny’s arm, though his reaction to it was not without some initial horror. Banshee did feel like she was friends with Johnny, but this didn’t stop her feelings of betrayal, and of being an inconsequential addition to the lives of the people she lived with. She could deal with Edgar favoring Johnny over her – Johnny was something like his partner, and she was a distant niece, if she felt like being generous. What she couldn’t live with was neglect and abuse, and the more she watched Johnny flaunting his un-broken wrist, the more she decided Johnny had no right to be un- anything.

They were upstairs, and Banshee was crossing the hall to fish something out of the closet, when Johnny emerged from the bedroom.

“What do you want?” he said, though she’d said and done nothing to warrant such a question.

“Nothing, fuck you.”

“Have you seen that glass thing?”

“You’re going to need to be specific.”

“The glass thing,” Johnny said as he mocked holding a small ball. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

Whatever Johnny said next didn’t particularly matter. She later pretended that it was what had set her off, but she was already resolved well before then to shove. There was never going to be another time that she and Johnny would be this near the stairs without suspicion, unless Banshee pretended to camp in the bathroom for hours until he emerged. She waited until he’d said the last syllable of whatever he was trying to say and then she forced all her weight against his chest. It wasn’t much weight, but thanks to her resemblance to Johnny, there wasn’t much weight to move either.

When her hands left the fabric of his shirt, everything slowed long enough for Banshee to appreciate that Johnny was not dodging her, but that gravity was dragging him out and away, and in the same way that she used to hear Jimmy think it aloud, she found Johnny falling to be something beautiful.

Things were supposed to be okay.  Judging by the fact that Johnny was now flailing through the air, they clearly were not, but even in the times that things had been okay, Banshee had found the support of her ‘family’ inconsistent at best. Losing a bookmark was an event warranting national security, but a bloody knee was only important once Edgar found out about it.  When she thought about it, still frozen in a moment her mind seemed determined to both relish and ruin, Banshee realized that the little crises about her body had always been the worst offenders.

She had awoken sometime early in the morning back when she felt a little younger with a pain in her jaw and a wet, sticky feeling on her cheek. When she’d taken a breath, worried that her jaw had somehow fallen off, the taste and scent of blood flooded her senses and for a moment, she’d thought, shorted out her brain. She’d sat up abruptly in a panic and realized there were sharp objects in her mouth. Pausing only for a moment to consider the possibilities, she’d spat into her hand.  
  
There, shining among strands of spit and blood, she’d found a hand full of her own teeth.  
  
The light in the room had been faint, but her eyes were able to make out the small puddle of blood that was staining the pillow and the collection of other teeth that were lying scattered around it. Horrified, she’d shuffled through the sheets and away from the stain, shaking the teeth from her hand and into the folds of her bed. She’d run her tongue around her mouth in a panic, but found no gaps in the rows of teeth. The teeth had only felt sore, though some of them felt sharper or differently shaped than they had when she gone to sleep.  
  
The longer she had remained awake, the more her jaw had ached. Banshee’s thoughts of panic had then been interrupted by intense desires to chew on ice cubes or fill her mouth with gauze. Unfortunately, she never made it to freezer or to the hall closet.  She remembered clearly that she had pounded on Johnny and Edgar's door, but only barely recalled that she had run to it.   
  
"Oh god, what did you do to yourself?" Johnny had looked disgusted at the sight of her, his lip twitching.   
  
"My teeth all fell out!"   
  
"You’re not _that_ old," he’d said, rolling his eyes and trying to shut the door on her.  
  
Edgar had pushed the door open from behind Johnny and shoved him out of the way. He had gasped and looked a little sick when he saw Banshee standing there.   
  
"Oh god, get into the bathroom," he’d choked, trying frantically to turn her around without actually touching her.   
  
Banshee had obeyed silently, afraid to blink and have more of her face deform itself while she wasn't paying attention. Standing in front of the mirror, she had then been presented with a reflection of the patch of blood that had traveled over her cheek during the night. The image of it was still clear in her mind; dried and crusting off of her skin on the edges, while the inch or so near her mouth remained tacky and thick. A spot or two on her cheek had retained the texture of her pillow, accented then with thick reddish brown.   
  
"Ew, that's really horrible looking." She’d touched her cheek gingerly, and her fingers had actually stuck for a moment. "Sorry, I didn't know it was so gross."  
  
It had been disgusting, but Banshee still recalled the intense relief that her face had not fallen off during the night. Edgar had tossed a washcloth at her from the closet and she worked on scrubbing her face. The mirror had assured her it was gone, but her face had very much insisted that something was lingering.  
  
"You told Johnny your teeth fell out?" Edgar had asked from the doorway.  
  
"They did!" she’d squeaked, tossing the cloth in the sink. "They're all on my pillow!"   
  
"You still look like you have them all," he’d observed, leaning closer and obviously doubtful.   
  
"Go look!"  
  
Johnny had gotten there first.   
  
"This is seriously gross, Banshee.” His voice had sounded friendlier echoing from her room then than it had recently.  
  
"I did it on purpose, Nny. Just for you."  
  
"Good, I think I'll let Edgar throw it in the laundry. It's the gift that keeps on giving."  
  
Edgar had said something Banshee didn't hear as she followed him into her bedroom to join Johnny. She hadn’t thought much of what it was at the time, but reflecting on it she assumed it to be some sort of smart but loving remark that she hadn’t been meant to hear in the first place.  
  
The teeth, still bloody and glistening, had looked more gruesome in the light somehow. To have them lying so casually among the pictures of cats printed on her sheets had made her feel uneasy.   
  
"So… your body caught up with you all at once or something," Johnny had said, still surveying the bloody stain.  
  
"Teeth are supposed to fall out?" Banshee had asked. She had never run into this problem in mythology.  
  
"The first ones, yeah."  
  
She’d pressed her fingers into her cheeks again, just to make sure her bone structure hadn’t changed.  For weeks after the event, she had checked almost hourly to make sure her teeth hadn’t escaped. Her nightmares had often consisted of being unable to keep teeth from piling up behind her lips in their frenzy to escape her jaw. In some dreams, she choked on them; in others, she could do nothing but throw up vomit laced with them.

"I feel like my face exploded while I was asleep."  
  
"It looks like that's exactly what happened." Edgar had still been hovering between interested and disgusted.  
  
"So what do you want to do with them?" Johnny had asked, turning to Banshee.  
  
"What? _Do?_ "  
  
"Yeah, you thinking earrings or a necklace or what?"  
  
"I don't have holes in my ears."  
  
Both Johnny and Edgar had seemed surprised to hear this and they stared oddly at her for a few seconds.   
  
"What, do they occur naturally or something like belly buttons?"  
  
"No," Johnny had answered with a partial laugh, "I think I just assumed. There's something like twenty holes between all of us, I just forgot you weren't adding to the total yet."  That joking friendship had been there then, but had almost vanished by now.  
  
"How'd you get them all?" Banshee had asked. She had been curious about the ear holes, but was still focused on the teeth.   
  
"Experimenting,” Johnny had replied with a casual shrug.

“That doesn’t sound safe at all.”

Johnny had looked intensely disapproving of Banshee’s comment and had glared at Edgar.

“What have you been telling her?” Johnny asked accusingly.

“What? She shows some concern for not getting a huge swollen infection and that’s _my_ influence?”

“I wonder where she would get the idea that she could get such a thing…”

“It was your fault, you know. You’re the one who did it.”

“Um, hey,” Banshee had interrupted. “I didn’t say anything about infection.”

Very quickly after that conversation, Johnny had retrieved needles and several books of matches.  After a few misfires resulting in more bloody facial wounds, a burned lock of hair, and the story of how infected Edgar had gotten when he agreed to have Johnny poke a hole in one of his ears, Banshee had gained her first ear piercings. They’d been slightly irregular and she had different numbers on each side. Johnny would later teach her to do it herself and in her latest body transformation she incorporated a few more holes into her new look, though she kept the uneven distribution. The pain of the new holes in her ears felt comforting the second time around - she’d inflicted it herself, and it was a change she invited among all the transformations that other people had given the okay for.

Edgar’s voice was the only sound she still remembered over the memory of the other pain.

“It’s okay, Banshee. Don’t worry.”

But it had been very not okay. She still felt this pain every day. Often, she felt like she had never left the moment when she first felt it, and could very well still be in the front of the mirror in the bathroom.

There had been, and still was, an ache across her chest and deep in her abdomen. She had hugged her book against her chest in an effort to stop the pain she felt trying to burst from her ribcage, but nothing seemed to stop it.  Like every other growth she’d never been warned about, this happened with no remorse or restraint.

The pain did not stop when her chest grew outward instead of upward.

She’d been reading a book in which the princess possessed magical mirrors that reflected a second too slow and a second too fast. The princess was under constant threat of attack and as a measure of protection a mark had been made on her eyelids that would kill someone looking upon the image. This meant that the princess spent much of her time alone. One day, looking into the slow mirror, the princess saw her own eyes closed, and the image on her lids, seen by the eyes underneath for the first time, killed her. At that moment, Banshee’s body had rebelled against her and Edgar had assured her that things would be fine as she scaled the stairs in terror. She had slammed the bathroom door behind her, shredded her shirt, and stared into the mirror over the sink in horror.

She knew what they were, she knew what they were for, she knew she’d look more female with them and yet, the pain aside, she hated them. Her companions, her friends, her sad excuse for a family were only going to make jokes about it.  She knew that was how they dealt with things that scared or worried them, but that didn’t excuse it. 

The hatred did not go away after that freak growth, and it did not lessen.  Cramming herself into a bra (provided by Tenna) was uncomfortable and unnecessary. It was ugly and awkward. It was stupid. It was girly. It was too tight around the middle but still slid off of her shoulders.

She hadn’t been, and still wasn’t dumb enough to punch the mirror, but she had thrown herself into trying to split it from the wall.  She had wanted to melodramatically claim that the mirror was mocking her, or that it was cruel in some way, but she knew better.  Until the mirror showed her time a moment too soon and a moment too slow and she was able to see the outside of her own eyelids, she had no mirror to blame that she was flailing around her bathroom in some kind of harness.

After staring down her own reflection, Banshee had rejected the bra, the breasts, and everything that came with them.  A bandage from the closet, pulled tightly around her chest for maximum restraint and flattening served as her permanent underwear from then on. Her reflection now showed a girl with a sore jaw, sore ears, a sore chest, and a generally unstable skeleton. Every injury she’d ever suffered even indirectly at Johnny’s hands stared back at her from eyes she herself had surrounded with black make-up.

She was simply tired of it. One comment here, one comment there. Something about her chest, something about her height, something about how similar they looked, something about how Tess had become a succubus and was trying to seduce Edgar in the night and Banshee was going to lose him to the same person she’d been trying to protect.  Johnny was, as far as Banshee could tell, her best friend, so this all made sense. Heaps of abuse only warranted abuse in return – it was how best friends worked. Best friends were supposed to fight more than anyone else in the world.

With Johnny the center of the world, and no one caring about the state of the mangled girl he’d indirectly attacked, an idea wormed into her mind and erupted later over the shaky re-establishment of their friendship.

When he hit the stair half way down, she almost regretted pushing him.  When she heard a crunch and a cry of pain, she felt nothing at all. It wasn’t as violent and personal as breaking his arm while twisting would have been, but it was something. Before she knew what she was doing, she had rushed down the stairs, several at a time, and smashed her boot against his forearm, wrenching a howl from him that almost made her laugh. Personalizing things. The sounds of Johnny’s arm breaking startled her, but they also sent a wave of power through her that muted every sound and blurred every image for several seconds thereafter. While Johnny gasped at the bottom of the stairs, Banshee fled to the top step, sat, stared down at him from between her knees and watched him squirm.

Within a few moments, Edgar emerged from the basement, saying something about hearing a noise. Briefly, Banshee wished she had savored breaking Johnny’s arm a little more; it had gone so fast and felt almost like it had happened in her head.

Edgar’s reaction to Johnny’s wrist wrapped in a bandage was nothing compared to his reaction when he discovered Johnny’s arm completely broken.  He’d taken very diligent, gentle care of Johnny’s wrist after it had been twisted while mocking him at every opportunity and giving Banshee disapproving but gently joking looks in the meantime.  With Johnny’s arm actually broken, Edgar was at first violently angry and then bitterly cold.  This was, of course, after the panic.

Johnny had writhed on the floor in pain for a few moments before he managed to breathe enough to say that he thought his arm was broken. When Edgar asked what had happened, Johnny nodded toward Banshee at the top of the stairs and Edgar’s gaze met hers. She’d never seen Edgar’s face in this expression and while she was not sorry, she regretted that fulfilling her need had to hurt Edgar.  When Edgar asked for confirmation that Banshee had really broken Johnny’s arm, Johnny nodded and said something to the tune of, ‘Fucking jumped on it.’ Edgar’s eyes widened and he held his hands out to discourage any movement on Johnny’s part.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Johnny said between winces. “Just call Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” Edgar was already on his way to the phone apparently to dial for an ambulance. “What do you want him for?”

“He can fix it. Seriously, call him.”

“I’m not calling Jimmy for something a doctor should be doing, it’s-”

“Jimmy can actually _see_ me, just fucking call.”

Edgar’s worry was enough that he seemed to forget what had caused all of this in the first place because he looked at Banshee as though trying to get her to vote in a tie breaker.  She bit her lip hard to keep from telling Edgar that he should jump on Johnny’s arm just to make sure it was really broken before making the call.

Moments later, he apparently decided he didn’t need the opinion of Johnny’s teenaged assassin-in-training and dialed the phone. Banshee was surprised when Edgar said hello to Tenna and not to Jimmy or a hospital.

“I need you to get over here with the van; I think Johnny’s arm is broken. I – um, okay. Sure.”

He hung up and looked bewildered for a moment.

“She swore at me, and then she said she’d bring Jimmy over,” Edgar said, almost to himself.

“Fucking told you,” Johnny growled through his teeth.

“Has he done this before?” Edgar asked.

“Devi broke her arm when she was thirteen. Jimmy read about it or something, I don’t know. But he fixed it with some shit he stole from the school nurse and some other stuff from some kind of army supply store.”

“What did he do? Maybe I can do something before gets here.” Edgar made a motion to grab Johnny’s arm, and Johnny tried to pull away in an effort to avoid pain, which then resulted in more pain. He swore quietly and then stopped moving.

“Okay,” Johnny said. He caught a glance at Banshee out of the corner of his eye and his expression changed, but Banshee was not sure to what. It flashed on his face only briefly before he returned to trying to give Edgar something to do.

“So it looks fucked up, right?” Johnny asked, watching the ceiling fan.

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“How does it feel?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I mean to touch it. Cold or something?”

Edgar gingerly touched Johnny’s arm above his wrist. “Yeah.”

Johnny asked questions he already knew the answers to and had Edgar feeling useful until Jimmy arrived, banging on the door and accompanied by Devi and Tenna. Edgar let them in and the conversations went by too fast for Banshee to keep track of. Someone mentioned Tess, everyone wanted to know how it happened, and Jimmy and Johnny swore at each other while Jimmy fussed with the black oversized First Aid bag he’d brought along.

“Stop twitching! I have to get the circulation through here again!”

“It fucking hurts! You didn’t do this to Devi!”

“Yes he did, Nny, I just wasn’t a baby.”

“Fuck you! OW!”

“What the hell happened?” Tenna demanded, waving her hands in front of Edgar’s face.

“Banshee-” Edgar started, motioning to her.

“ _Kleine_?!”

“FUCK, JIMMY, MY ARM!”

Banshee laughed softly into her knees, attempting to stifle the sound for the group below. Unfortunately, the more a silence settled over them, the harder it became for her to maintain hers.  When she laughed, it flowed from her and rolled down the stairs, stunning everyone at the bottom, except for perhaps Johnny, who was already very physically aware of Banshee’s joy in the situation. The longer they looked at her, the harder she laughed.  The harder she laughed, the more pronounced their horror became.

Jimmy and Edgar looked betrayed, though Jimmy more so than Edgar. Edgar, at this point, was in a kind of angry shock. Banshee’s glee faded when she looked at his face, but it surged again when she saw Johnny, who was striving to avoid looking at her. She’d wounded him in a way that he couldn’t hide now.  He couldn’t avoid this like an emotional blow, and he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt him in front of others like he had done with everything Tess had ever done to him. Even if Jimmy managed to mend the limb perfectly, Johnny would wear a cast and someone would catch a picture of him with it on. Johnny was not unbreakable, was not immortal, and not magical.  With the cast on his arm, he wouldn’t slip out of anything, wouldn’t even be able to eat with the same efficiency.  An eye for an eye, bones for bones.

Jimmy silently returned to fixing Johnny’s arm, and the others just looked uncomfortable. Devi expressed disgust with the whole affair, while Tenna was just confused. She glanced between Banshee and Johnny several times, yet never seemed to come to a conclusion that satisfied her.  

“I guess that should do it,” Jimmy said minutes later, trying to focus his attention entirely on Johnny’s newly wrapped arm.

“Will that plaster come off the floor?” Devi asked as she poked a few spots that Jimmy had dripped. Johnny shot her a look but said nothing. He was still avoiding looking up the stairs, and the others seemed afraid to say anything to Banshee at all.  Since they’d all stepped around ever being called her parents, she realized, no one was comfortable punishing her, and the one person who had every right to lash out at her because she’d just broken him, couldn’t.

“I’ll be in my room,” she finally said, her hand hovering above her mouth. When she stood up, she towered over them and again let out rich laughter that followed her down the hall.

****

Banshee sat alone in the room while the others remained downstairs, baffled at her behavior. She still didn’t feel bad for the act itself, only that it upset people she had not directly hurt.  Jimmy certainly had not expected the girl he shared his fake second language with to try to break his lifelong obsession, and Edgar was clearly not amused either. A small comfort, though, was that Banshee could be fairly certain that Tess would very much approve.

The red star still hung in the dark when she closed her eyes.

She could hear the group downstairs fussing over Johnny and even louder was the sound of Johnny complaining.

When she sunk into her blankets, and closed her eyes to take in the red star, she imagined she was floating. Sometimes at night, when she was very nearly asleep, she would feel as though her body was tipping off of her mattress or that it was swinging steadily on a plank. The hovering feeling usually took a while to experience and was fragile, but it had soothed her to sleep more times than she could count. The red star usually made her feel that way in almost no time at all. At this point, Banshee lacked any concern over the politics of the Tess situation, she only knew she wanted to see her, talk to her, and figure out what made her tick. She wanted no parts of taking sides, she just wanted to know.

She traced a star in the air with a hand that felt heavier than usual, and sang softly at the one waving in the black behind her eyelids.

_“It’s my red star…”_

The star glowed and pulsed in response to her voice, encouraging more. The louder the words, the more she repeated them, the greater happiness surged from the star. Soon, the song stopped being the mostly soft and flowing tune she’d first called out of the mental sea and grew harder, sharper, and angrier, the star morphing with it.  Banshee found the change quite welcome.

In a few moments, the words Banshee sang no longer matched the words being fed to her (or drawn out by her, she wasn’t sure). The star’s song compelled her to mouth words to a song she had never heard, but knew all the words to.

_“Liar…”_

The star was pleased by the first word she uttered, and urged her to produce more, though Banshee did not need to be pushed.

_“You took a quick escape_   
_But left your lies in perfect shape_   
_As long as my mem'ries live_   
_I never will - forgive you”_

As the star sang less and Banshee sang more, her lips curled into a satisfied smile, and Tess’ voice began to sing with her.

_“So if we meet - somewhere tonight_   
_You'd better - be set to fight_   
_In the darkness - of missing stars_   
_You won't see me_   
_But you'll feel me inside”_

Tess’ voice and her attempts at singing angrily to Johnny made Banshee smile wider, and a reprise of her laughter from the staircase almost ruined the continuation of the song.

_“Sitting in the dark just feeling low_   
_I'm ruined to the heart - I'm on the road_   
_To nowhere - to nowhere_   
_If you wanna lie to me again_   
_There is a rotten place they call the end_   
_Just go there - and stay there”_

Banshee felt Tess smiling too.

_“Liar.”_

They hummed together, nearly vocalizing the remainder of the song’s tune, both almost laughing, and Banshee was floating - hovering just above her sheets.

****

Edgar cornered her when the others had left and Johnny’s arm was securely in Jimmy’s shoddy-but-effective cast.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Banshee smugly shrugged the question away. “I was angry.”

“You broke his arm!”

“I know!” she laughed. “That’s what I was going for! I’d say it worked quite well!”

“Why?! What is this _about_?”

“He did _this_ to me!” she yelled, thumping her hand against her chest. “On purpose! He’s been torturing me since the day I got here!”

“He was the one who first wanted to keep you here! Without him, you’d have been given over to the police!”

Banshee lips twitched uncontrollably. She tried to scream and clamp down on the urge at the same time. Edgar looked so angry and while she wanted to fight back with everything she had, Edgar was the person she wanted to fight with the least.

“He wanted to keep me just to mess with me, just to make me a pawn in his stupid shows.”

“And now we’re stupid.”

“No, I-”

“It’s all of us. Not just him.”

“He uses the rest of you, just like he uses me!” Banshee exclaimed, tossing her hands dramatically and then letting them fall to her sides. “I was just a kid-shaped toy to him all that time.”

Edgar looked conflicted for a moment.

“So what did you do?” he asked slowly. “What was the idea here? To punish him? To get to me somehow?”

“I don’t know.”

“I played dumb for a while, you know, to what you wanted. And Johnny was right; I should have addressed it long before now.” He sighed. “Especially before now.”

“What the hell do you know about what I wanted?”

“You came home one day screaming that you didn’t have a father. In German. I’m not an idiot, Banshee.”

Banshee felt a wave of fear, or maybe embarrassment, rush over her.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said with false arrogance. “I look what, maybe five or six years younger than you now? Some father you’ll be!”

“You wanted me to be when you were smaller. Would you still feel that way if I’d accepted all this earlier?”

“I’d still have broken his arm.”

“That’s not what I mean. And I don’t care how funny you think that is, you won’t get away with it.”

“What will you do? Lock me in my room? Put child locks on the van?”

“You just won’t be here,” Edgar said, though something in his voice betrayed that he’d only then thought of the idea.

Banshee crossed her arms, and laughed. “Yeah, go ahead, send me to Uncle Jimmy.”

“He’s not going to want you either. I’ll let you know when we make some kind of decision. Other than that, don’t expect to hear much from us.”

He left the room after that, leaving the issue of her feelings unaddressed.

“Thanks, _Dad_!” she called mockingly after him.

There was no answer from Edgar, or from the red star.

*****

Johnny had everything he asked for. Even though Banshee hadn’t snapped both his arms, he still legitimately needed help with some things, and shamelessly and arrogantly whined for help with everything else.  Banshee wanted to lash out at him again, tell Edgar how obvious it was that Johnny was milking a broken arm for all it was worth and how he was being the same selfish bastard that had resulted in the broken limb in the first place.

However, Edgar wasn’t speaking to her, and when he managed to, the words he said were far from kind.

She knew that she’d brought that on herself, and she had even considered it briefly in the euphoria of crushing Johnny’s arm, but it didn’t make Edgar being so cold any less unpleasant.  No one got anything for her anymore, even when she remembered not swear when she asked for it.  The items she used to just borrow and then never return were all taken back, even though she’d had some of them since her first few days in the house. Food was made for two again, and not for three.

It angered her that Edgar took Johnny’s side, even though she should have known he would. Johnny had always been more important, even while Johnny blatantly abused Banshee and Edgar claimed to care about her. She used to wonder if Johnny ever really loved Edgar, and had snooped around more than once to see if he did, but at this point, even the supposed love she had witnessed could not convince her that Edgar wasn’t being manipulated. Tess was fucking on to something all that time. The star sung with her at night because it was right.

When Banshee walked into the living room to watch television, Edgar and Johnny ignored her, and even changed the channel when she seemed to want to watch what they already were. She suspected that Edgar and Johnny suffered through a show they both hated in order to make Banshee as uncomfortable as possible before she gave up and retreated to eat in her bedroom. As she closed her bedroom door, she heard Edgar’s voice ask if Johnny wanted him to change the channel.

The star showed her something better when she closed her eyes.

*****

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it just fucking itches.”

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m not dying, I just broke my arm.”

“ _Banshee_ broke your arm,” Edgar muttered. He made no effort to conceal bitter anger. He was sitting with Johnny in the bedroom, several days after the break in question, both of them staring at the white closet, but neither saying a word about it.

“I’m impressed at how much not talking to her you’re doing.”

“She did it on purpose! What am I supposed to do? Take her out for ice cream?”

“ _I_ could go for some,” Johnny hinted. Edgar ignored him.

“You’re not bothered by this?”

“Of course I am. She tried to snap me in half to get to you, or to prove that Tess is God, or that she was a real boy at last or whatever,” Johnny waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to adjust his Pinocchio reference for gender. “I just have things not trapped in my house to worry about.”

“She’d be easier to deal with if she was a boy.”

“Well sure,” Johnny replied, “since you already know how to deal with me and we’re exactly the same and all.”

“Fuck this,” Edgar said suddenly, letting himself drop into the blankets. “I’m obviously meant to have a specific set of relations, and all my extra ones are only sent to do their damndest to ruin the one I like the most. I couldn’t even have a stupid secret admirer without it turning into some shit storm from Hell.”

Johnny laughed, but had nothing to say. He found it funny that Edgar’s not-affair and Edgar’s not-daughter seemed to be gay either for each other or for conspiracy. Usually, at this point in their conversations, Edgar would unmask whatever it was that he really wanted to say, and Johnny would give him the obvious answer, but today, Edgar was mysteriously silent, even after a few minutes.

“I’m glad to hear you like me the best,” Johnny prodded.

“I’m fine,” Edgar replied to the question that hadn’t been asked.

“Good.”

Johnny’s arm itched again, and once more he wished he had fingernails long enough to reach the awkward plaster-covered places that pinched and prodded him so often.  Banshee probably had had no idea that the fracture would actually cause him less pain and annoyances than the method to fix it, but he was also not going to inform her. The itch was maddening, and he clawed senselessly at the cast, even though he knew logically it was far too thick for him to feel through it.

In the midst of Johnny’s fidgeting with the cast and his attempts at pressing on the itchy spot, he felt something click against his knuckle. Edgar, still gazing blankly at the ceiling, held a mechanical pencil in his hand, and was only barely making enough motion to convince Johnny that he’d meant to offer it. Johnny snatched it and jammed the tip under the cast to finally relieve an itch he thought he might suffer from for the rest of his life.

“Thanks,” Johnny said, tossing the pencil back. Edgar made a noise in reply and tucked the pencil behind his ear. Johnny watched him breathing, still expecting him to unpack his woes any moment, even if he felt from Edgar that he had no intention of doing so.

“What are you going to do to her?” Johnny asked. Edgar looked on the verge of sleep.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I can’t leave her with anyone – Jimmy would suffocate her in her sleep for what she did, and I don’t think Devi is feeling very indulgent either.”

“But you are?”

“No!” Edgar protested, his eyes meeting Johnny’s for the first time in several minutes. “No. I don’t want to indulge her, or reward her, or anything like that. It’s not okay that she,” he motioned to Johnny’s arm, “uh, did that, but I can’t just toss her to the curb. If I don’t keep her here, Tess will find her.”

“How about Pepito?” Johnny asked, picking at his flaking nail polish.

“What the hell would Pepito know beyond what glasses prescription she needs?”

“No, I mean, let Pepito hold on to her. We know she can hold her own in a Hell Off, and if she’s anything like me… Well, she won’t die there.”

Edgar stared at Johnny’s arm, his eyes glancing over the graffiti from the others (‘ _Fuck Off_ ’and ‘ _Just die next time, you Bastard. Love, Devi_ ’ among them), before he said anything. 

“Maybe for a little while,” he said, a few fingers grazing the awkward stars that Jimmy had drawn near Johnny’s elbow.

*****

 

Banshee had predicted long ago that she’d never talk to the guy called Squee ever again.  When she heard that she was being deported to Pepito’s house, there was a small rage in her that even her personal prophesies weren’t something special.  Edgar showed her the house with little ceremony, gesturing with a flat “Well, this is it,” when they found themselves in Pepito’s lawn.  There were no hugs or ‘goodbye’s or even any of those patronizing pats on the head. Edgar simply turned and left without even a mention of when he’d be coming back for her.

The door opened behind her as she stared after Edgar. She hadn’t knocked, but there stood the same figure who had produced her glasses however long ago, though this time he was holding a glass of milk.

“So this is the wild animal who broke our favorite crazy’s arm, eh?”

‘ _Fuck you_ ’ felt appropriate, so did ‘ _What’s it to you_?’ along with a host of other phrases she’d been taught were supposed to come out of rebellious teens. While she was considering which one to embarrass herself with, Pepito retreated into the house, leaving the door ajar behind him.

His house was warm, but not in a good way. It was too warm to wear a shirt with long sleeves, but not humid or even hot. It was just uncomfortable. The air felt thick from overuse, like it had been breathed a few times too many. She wanted to open a window almost the moment she closed the door, and yet there was no terrible smell.

“How many times have they kicked you out now, huh?”  Pepito’s voice dragged through the air from the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” she answered. She wasn’t sure if it was true, but she cared less and less about the truth lately.

“Why did you do it?”

“Did they call you and have a chat about it, or what?”

“Please give me a little more credit than that, Stephanie.”

“ _Banshee_.”

Pepito mock-shivered in his place in front of the sink. “Oooh, edgy.”

“That’s not – It’s not like that. It’s just my name.”

“You feel deeply connected to it, right? It speaks to you?”

The muscles in the back of her leg clenched. “Yeah, so?”

He laughed at her and pulled a few dishes out of the sink.

“You know you’re not going to get anywhere, right? I had Sir Crazy as the gatekeeper for Hell for a while, and he tried to kill Todd to get out of it.”

Banshee raised an eyebrow, and somehow, Pepito saw it.

“They didn’t tell you that?” he asked gleefully.

Slowly, she dropped her bag to the thick carpet and approached the kitchen. The air felt thicker and she thought she could feel it hovering more densely just above the linoleum. Banshee slid up to Pepito’s kitchen table, the top of which could not been seen under the sheer bulk of snack food Pepito and Squee apparently stored on it.

“Was this before he was born here?” she asked, running a finger along the table’s edge.

“Nope! It was just a few months before they found you, if I’ve got my timelines straight. Had him right against the wall in there, with the big knife on his neck and everything.” Pepito gestured to somewhere beyond the kitchen wall and was strangely cheery for someone discussing the peril, even past peril, of someone he was close to.

Every so often, the ‘Johnny, Ruler of Hell’ story flipped in Banshee’s mind from bullshit to gospel truth, but now it felt only like mundane history.

“You brought him back because he was going to kill Todd?”

“Mmm.”

“To go back to see Edgar.”

“Mm-mm. So a broken arm, I imagine, isn’t going to slow anyone down. Not metaphorically anyway.” He scrutinized a ceramic plate, nose nearly pressed against its shining surface, a long nail squeaking uncomfortably against the glaze.

Banshee pulled a chair out from under Pepito’s over-crowded table and gazed into the jungle of snack food spread out in front of her.

“I wasn’t trying to slow him down,” she said, shredding the top of a box of chocolate-covered pretzels.

“ _Please_ tell me you were trying to kill him,” Pepito pleaded mockingly, clutching a dish to his chest. “I haven’t had a good dose of teen angst since high school.”

“No wonder they don’t like you,” Banshee grumbled through a mouthful of snacks.

Pepito laughed – a sound that scratched at the insides of Banshee’s head – and continued rinsing his dishes.

“I just didn’t know what else to do,” she finally confessed. “He taunts me, and he did all this to me on _purpose_. He doesn’t apologize, he doesn’t fucking care, he just bitches at everyone and teases me about my chest.”

“And you broke his arm for that? Over your chest?”

“No. It wasn’t just the chest.”

Pepito made an amused sound, and set aside the last of his plates.

“Do you want to hear a story, Banshee?”

Banshee pulled the breadstick box she’d just opened close to her chest. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with how random that was.”

Pepito ignored her discomfort and launched into a story.

“Practically forever ago, I met Todd when we were both only so big.” He motioned to a height somewhere just below the tabletop. “Other kids teased the Hell out of Todd, and-”

“Where _is_ Todd?” Banshee interrupted.

“Giving an interview with the guy who stalks our house. He’ll be home eventually.”

“Okay then.”

“Anyway, Todd. They teased him, and I thought, ‘Here’s a kid that gets it. I’ll bring him over, and we’ll play and he’ll see I can take care of those kids for him.’  To tell the truth, I think he was afraid of me.”

“You’re the Anti-Christ.”

“Mmm-hmm.” As he nodded, something behind him dinged. “Of course just as I sit down,” he said, pulling himself out of his chair. “Do you want some cookies?”

“What kind?”

“Whichever you want.”

“Sure. So, your childhood love for Todd, then?”

Pepito made no effort to deny Banshee’s teasing. “Back then, Todd lived next door to a man who scared the shit out of him. A really scary fucker. Though he’d protected Todd a few odd times, he was really pretty horrible. Hell-bound, that one. And, you know, I didn’t mention it then, but I thought the guy was pretty neat. Anyway, this guy disappeared a little while after I met Todd, and to this day, I don’t know where he ended up when we accidentally ended that world.”

“That’s cute.”

“It’s also true.  Here, take a plate.”

“What, you think you’re gonna bring on Ragnarok or something? You really going to get that Apocalypse going soon?”

Pepito smiled and slid a few cookies onto Banshee’s plate. “I’m no child of Loki, no. But Todd and I did end that particular world by letting Hell devour it. It was accidental, like I said, but it turns out Hell doesn’t particularly care.” He went on to describe in great detail what it feels like when Hell eats the world, and seemed quite content to use a cookie as a visual aid.

“So that world ended. The same world with that man who scared Todd, and the people he killed, including your Edgar, and that Jimmy guy you people still talk to.”

“Nny was Todd’s neighbor? But you two are so much older than-”

“I’m not finished,” Pepito said, stuffing a cookie into Banshee’s mouth. “Todd and I survived the end, and resumed our lives sometime in the next world, after things had been reasonably reset. Your psycho and his fanclub all came back, with strangely different results. Either way, the people responsible for all of this decided that that world was also no good, and took away the people who had been involved with the world’s current system.”

“System?” Banshee leaned closer to Pepito. “Some other gods in charge of things, or what?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s always been the man and his chair up there and me or my father down here. They had a system here meant to take care of a good deal of this world’s negativity. It was an okay thing when it worked, but… that was not so often. Your little family-thing was part of that, so they were killed off and reshuffled through life to try to clean it all out. Except Mr. I’m A Big Deal himself – your Edgar had to bid for life _for_ him.”

“What does all this have to do with me breaking his arm?”

Pepito downed most of a glass of milk, and continued right on smiling. “I wanted him to come down here,” he motioned to a door behind him, “and do my thing for me. The people upstairs let _Edgar_ decide otherwise, and I ended up having to give crazy boy up for Edgar. You see?”

“No, I don’t.”

“There are people, and things, who will find a way to fuck up even the end of the world for what they want. Breaking his arm was futile, and you’ll need to get over it.”

“That was _it_? I was totally starting to like you, too.”

“You wanted some kind of control, didn’t you? Some way to say, ‘ _Fuck you, I have some say in the world too’_ , yes? You won’t get it from those two.”

“I don’t care. It still felt good.”

“Does _this_ feel good?” He motioned vaguely around his head, indicating her current status of ‘stuck in Hell’s Kitchen’.

Banshee turned her nose up. “I _like_ cookies.”

“But this isn’t going to stay cookies, I assure you.”

“I’ll take my chances. I don’t care what they can or can’t do; I just want him to _see_.”

“He sees only a very specific set of things,” Pepito said, inspecting his cookie. “Most people do. You heard of selective hearing?”

“Selective _blindness_?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Pepito crammed the entire cookie into his mouth with no effort at all, and yet again downed a glass of milk that Banshee was sure he had finished just a minute or two ago.

“Okay then. Show me what I _can_ do,” Banshee said. “You really bother Nny, so if I can do whatever you do…”

“You can’t do what I do.”

“And why not?” Banshee demanded.

Pepito retained his sweet expression, though Banshee felt that he was having a hard time keeping it up. He cleared the cookies out of the way and into somewhere she seemed unable to see.

“Because,” he said matter-of-factly, “you have breasts.”

While Banshee screamed and attempted to hit him with an assortment of his own snacks, Pepito’s odd laugh snaked and echoed through the house’s thick air.

*****

Several days after he had plastered Johnny’s arm to the floor, Jimmy asked the others how they felt about making some surprise visits to places that they had played before they were widely noticed. He desperately wanted to play in the parking lot again, he said, and there were some auditoriums he was sure he could secure by sheer force of will.  He even told the others he could promote the secret gatherings on the deepest corners of the internet to see who would show up. Devi didn’t seem to care what they did either way, and Tenna was always up for dressing the others up in something new and horrible. Edgar said he wouldn’t mind doing a few, but with Johnny’s arm, the decision really belonged to him. Jimmy insisted the broken arm could look hardcore, but Edgar wasn’t buying it and still insisted the final call be Johnny’s.

When asked, however, Johnny seemed uncharacteristically motivated to do something other than make people get things for him. He agreed to do the few mini-shows, especially since they wouldn’t include Banshee. Jimmy and the others all seemed to agree that doing a few without her might do everyone some good, though there were some awkward moments in attempting to phrase the sentiment.

Jimmy’s deepest corners of the internet had spawned some freaks in higher proportions than usual, but beyond that, nothing exploded as a direct result of Jimmy’s involvement with planning, nor did anything seem out of the ordinary. As far as Edgar was concerned, this was a bad thing.  Realistically, Johnny should have been having difficulty performing after Tess and Banshee both attempted to break him. He was far from perfect, but no one watching him ever knew it.

He was often delirious after he performed and wavered when he walked anywhere that wasn’t a stage. He strained to stay standing and struggled to keep his eyes open. His movements were slow and his voice quiet. Johnny held all of his scarce energy inside until it was needed. When he did something as basic as sitting up, Edgar could see even the most minor muscles involved start to spasm.

During a show, Johnny sang and screamed with everything he had.  He took no breaks, and no refuge in the breaths between songs for fear that he’d fall over if given enough time to blink. After the collapse at the payphone, Johnny wanted no parts of more stalkers, more interviews, and more questions as he tried desperately just to return to the safety of the van. If he presented as completely fine on stage, minus the arm, there would be nothing to alarm anyone to questioning, or Tess to eating his head.

The single instance of questioning he agreed to, though, did not go badly.

A newspaper, or maybe a magazine, Edgar wasn’t sure which, asked to talk to Johnny one night, and over the protests of his friends that he was too tired, sick or busy, he agreed. Edgar had to come with him, though whose requirement that was Edgar also didn’t know.

The woman, who had seen Jimmy’s underground announcements, asked them how life as people that were not only visible, but the central focus of an almost-cult was going, and Johnny answered in a way that would have fooled Edgar into thinking he was fine had Edgar not felt Johnny’s muscles struggling to keep him upright. Edgar tried his best to answer questions when it sounded like Johnny’s brain was failing.

Johnny told her everything that he told everyone else: that his relationship with Edgar was still not a publicity stunt; and that Banshee was not anyone’s daughter, niece or foster child. He then made a joke about Edgar that managed to go over well despite a rather strangled delivery. Edgar mentioned Banshee to Johnny in a reference he hoped only they would understand, but it was not to be.

“I heard there was a little drama with her lately,” the interviewer said, latching onto the subject of Banshee.

“There always is,” Johnny answered quickly.

“She’s a teenage girl,” Edgar said, shrugging. “Sort of guarantees drama.”

The woman eyed Johnny’s broken arm, and Johnny quickly gasped that he’d fallen down some stairs before Edgar could say something for him. They hadn’t discussed it prior to this particular chat, but there was an understanding that the real cause of Johnny’s broken arm was not to be leaked to anyone. Johnny’s upper arms began to quiver, and Edgar did his best to mime that he felt cold in order to make Johnny’s motions look more acceptable.

The interviewer asked several questions about how Johnny was feeling (“ _Tired_.”), how he was dealing with a broken arm (“ _Not cutting it off_.”), why Edgar hadn’t written anything on it (“ _He… lives with me. What the fuck_?”), and why the silly no-name tour (“ _Jimmy wanted to. I aim to please_.”).

When the woman thanked them and finally retreated with her notes, Johnny slumped over onto Edgar’s shoulder.

“There,” Johnny said between heavy breaths. “Now I’ve done it at least once.”

“Nny, she might not have even been legit.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can tell everyone else I already talked to someone and someone, somewhere, will back me up.  Let’s go.”

Edgar helped Johnny stumble toward the van and drop into a seat. He sucked down a juice box that Tenna offered and then promptly fell asleep. Edgar felt a gaze on his back alarmingly similar to Tess’, but when he turned around, only his friends were there, pretending to have not been assessing his situation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are snips of “Liar” by Vanilla Ninja, an Estonian girl band. I wanted to find something a bit Banshee-heavy. I think it’s pretty likely that the others would not like this song.


	11. Karaoke Soul

 

“It’s quiet here without her.”

“I know,” Edgar replied, shivering. “It’s kind of unsettling.”

“You used to live here alone.”

“Yeah, but…”  Edgar looked around the living room and Johnny watched his gaze fall on the many scars the room had gathered while housing people more destructive than Edgar.  “When you came here, it felt like you were something that filled it up a little better. We had to force Banshee to fit in here, but now that she’s not here, it feels a little emptier than I thought it would.”

_Was he talking about a person or a body piercing_? “Going to crawl back over there and get her?”

“Nny, she broke your fucking arm.”

“Yeah, I was there for that, remember?”

“Don’t do that.”

“ _Don’t do that_ ,” Johnny echoed mockingly. “I’ll make fun of my own arm breaking if I want to.”

“It’s serious. Something’s really wrong with her.”

_Will you just pick someone to be concerned about?_ _It’s like a fucking sliding scale._ “Yeah, apparently.”

“I couldn’t have her here when she was able to do that. She used to love you and now she’s throwing you down staircases? I thought maybe she’d start coming after me too, and then… I don’t know.”

“So you kicked her out because you thought she’d hurt _you_ soon? Thanks, Edgar.”

“That’s not it! Seriously, stop twisting this all around!”

Edgar looked so strange when he was angry, and even stranger when he was angry at Johnny.  Edgar grabbed Johnny’s shoulders and there was a snap behind Johnny’s eyes that itched, burned and screamed to lash out.

“Listen to me!” Edgar pleaded. “I took her to Pepito to protect everyone involved, okay? Not just me, not just you, not just Jimmy and Devi and Tenna. Of course I worry about you – you’ve got all this crap in your head and in the closet and you’re a little easier to break than I am – but I’m allowed to have a sense of self-preservation, too.”

“That isn’t what I said.” _That isn’t what you said._

“You’re accusing me of protecting myself instead of you. And I’m telling you I would have gotten rid of her for only endangering you just as quickly as I would have if she was trying to break everyone.”

“Okay.” _That might be all right._

“You and Banshee spent so much time worrying about who I gave more of a shit about.” Edgar released Johnny's shoulders and sighed as he ran his hand though his hair. “And Tess thinks it was horrible that you two care at all… I don’t know what sort of reaction everyone is expecting me to have, but whichever one I choose is always the wrong one.”

Edgar had to be from another world. He was from some universe where people were very polite and never did anything selfish and no one heard music in their heads.  Edgar was from an old black and white rerun with painted picket fences, milk men and dog catchers. It was charming in a sad and pathetic way, and it made the twinges and pricks in Johnny’s head grow beyond tiny annoyances. He resented that Edgar apparently lived in a world with decent people. People who didn’t explode or carry monsters inside themselves.

“Whatever,” Edgar said, perhaps answering himself. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You picked me.”

Edgar shrugged. “Apparently.”

“She broke my arm because she blames me for her whole skeleton, and you side with me.”

“It’s not like she doesn’t know that arms can break. How the hell were you supposed to know your brain would make her bones explode?”

“And you’re making excuses for me.”  _Kind of cute, in a sick way._ “What does Tess have to say about that?”

Edgar was quiet while Johnny watched him, waiting. Edgar’s hands flexed a few times. Johnny had to remind himself that Edgar probably willed that to happen. Edgar let out a long breath, turned and focused his eyes uncomfortably on Johnny’s.

“ _I don’t care,”_ Edgar said with equal parts determination and realization. _“_ I absolutely do not care what Tess thinks. I made a choice.”

“Did you?” Johnny titled his head and very consciously blinked.

“Shut up. Why do you even do this?”

“Do you really believe that you made a choice?”

“Yes, shut up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

“What?" Edgar snapped. "What is this about?”

“One of us needs to know what he actually believes when my head implodes.”

“It won’t.”

“Are-”

Edgar held up his hands like he might grab Johnny's head, but just shushed him instead. “Don’t. Don’t contradict me, don’t question me, don’t fuck with me. It just won’t. That’s it.”

Johnny smiled and settled effortlessly into a spot against Edgar’s chest. “Okay. I trust you.” 

Maybe he didn’t, maybe he did, but Edgar didn’t know the difference, and given his reaction, Edgar had never heard words he liked so much.

****

The door was harder to resist than usual. Johnny couldn’t think of anything that had changed to make that happen but that Banshee was missing from the house. Or that his brains were weakening and Tess was eating them in a coffee shop somewhere. He felt more inclined to blame Banshee, however, since Tess had never mentioned an evil secret room, and Banshee had discovered one.

When he neared the door now, whatever was in it sang the same song it had howled to him the first few times he'd opened the closet. He knew logically that the lyrics and melody were just as unclear now as they'd been the first time, but words slipped out of the voice in the song so much easier now.

_“Out of the sphere  
Into the box  
Tuning into  
Wireless waves_

Like most of what Tess had hit him with, Johnny could not hear words here without considering that they were to be relevant to him. 

_  
  
“Watching blue  
Take the veil  
Turn the channel  
  
Flashback of reality  
Hooked to fantasy”_

 

It was the same white noise that had been there before, but now it was trying to mean something. Over the noise and the voice was a single repeating tone.  It echoed as though it was being slowly dripped into a bucket, and Johnny felt it on the verge of speaking.  Another song, another voice, ready to slip in and add to what was already buzzing in his head. 

Johnny jerked away from the door before the second voice got a chance to infect him.  Downstairs, Edgar and the television would be suitable distractions from the damn closet, Banshee’s fault or not.

****

 “No, I want to.”

“Johnny, you’ve got a broken arm. You think it’ll be easier to avoid being licked when you’ve got all this plaster all over you?”

The licking in question was a stunt pulled several shows ago, before Johnny had collapsed, and just after he’d died. Several girls in the audience begged Jimmy between songs for a chance to lick his guitar, apparently while Johnny was narrating some story or another. Jimmy, all too happy to oblige, played with them for a few minutes, while Johnny gave a dry play-by-play of their interaction. He made sure to cite ‘the obvious pelvic thrust that he thinks is very subtle’ and ‘the licking of the teeth – sure to reel them in with that _glimmering_ off-yellow’.  Jimmy happily ignored Johnny’s narration, and at some points did things just to make Johnny say them. The audience members got their taste of Jimmy’s guitar and for the rest of the night, there was little incident. 

Several shows later, more girls, though possibly the same group, asked Jimmy if they could lick his guitar while Johnny was passing the microphone to Devi. Devi was intended to lay the smack down on someone who had been an asshole on their way in, but she was cut short by Jimmy indulging people yet again to lick his instrument. While Devi attempted to talk over Jimmy pretended the girls were licking something much more a part of his body, someone in the audience shrieked that they had interest in licking the guitar too. Jimmy waved them on up, and the show was delayed for several minutes as audience members clambered onto stage for a lick of Jimmy’s guitar.

Licking quickly moved from being a thing that a few cultish girls did to being a badge of honor and an activity that somehow spread over everywhere they traveled. Jimmy suggested, one fateful day, that someone lick Edgar’s keyboard, and one person in the small herd that rushed him managed to slobber over a good portion of the buttons along the top before a horrified Edgar could swat them away. This sparked not only the beginning of Edgar’s obsession with hand sanitizer, but the ‘Lick the Homicides’ game.

It was not an easy game since the band beyond Jimmy (and Tenna, who didn’t count), were entirely against it. People wanted to lick Devi’s drums, Edgar’s keys, Jimmy’s guitar and Johnny in general. No one licked Devi’s things without also being brutally assaulted with a drum stick or a cymbal, and yet she remained a popular target.  Pictures of the bruises Devi had inflicted became something like merit badges in fan circles and the race to see who could get Devi to hit them in the most places often resulted in car loads of mangled fans following the group for miles on end to get to the next performance.

Jimmy of course relished it, and began playing more games with the lickers. He offered free licks in exchange for sporks and kept a tally of how many people had licked him, the guitar or both _._ More than once, fans were found hiding under the van in an attempt to get Jimmy’s ankles and rather than be horrified like Devi, Jimmy rewarded the ankle lickers with autographed foreheads and posing for photos taken on their phones. The other Homicides were often seen in the backgrounds of these pictures looking ill or purposely miming that they were about to vomit. One that became a quick favorite was taken by a fan of Jimmy’s who was particularly gay for him and showed no shame in being flamboyant about it.  When the picture was sent to Jimmy’s mysteriously acquired phone, the background featured Devi shining a bright flashlight on Tenna’s naked chest, effectively ruining the image for Mr. Flamboyant Jimmy-Fancier.

Edgar found the entire licking thing disgusting, especially after finding a strange pair of teenagers taking pictures in the parking lot while they took turns licking messages into the dirt on the van. They’d scurried away from the scene like cockroaches when they heard Edgar coming, and, as far as Edgar was concerned, were just as disgusting. Though it was unlikely they had been anywhere near his keyboard, Tenna had to find Edgar some gloves that matched the majority of his costumes before he would agree to play again after the incident. He was eased out of the gloves after a few shows, but his disinfectant collection became a thing of wonder the day he stopped wearing them.

In Johnny’s mind, judging by his reactions, the game was more like rape than an annoyance. His responses to people attempting to lick him were loud, quick and often violent. People who attempted to catch Johnny unawares by looking casually disinterested were tripped, scratched, kicked or shoved off the stage to crash into other audience members. Fans getting close to him even without the intent to lick were attacked with absolutely zero provocation. He attempted to deafen one by screaming in a manner not unlike Banshee when the hapless bastard stepped in front of a speaker. Rocks from parking lots began to appear in his pockets and he once kept everyone but the Homicides themselves off the stage by performing with one of Jimmy’s broken beer bottles in his free hand. To date, no one had succeeded in licking any part of Johnny, or anything he owned. Those who came close often left bloody and never attempted it again.

It was because of Johnny’s reactions that his friends were attempting with everything they had to talk him out of accepting an invite to play somewhere significantly larger than the high school parking lots they’d been traipsing through since Banshee went to live with Pepito. Not only could the invite be some kind of Tess trap, they warned, but a cast was going to be nearly impossible to resist to the fans that only had the Johnny square left in Homicides Licking Bingo.

“I’d like to see them try anything,” Johnny said. He was unwaveringly confident.

The place they were invited to was dark, and a little dingy. It smelled partly of mildew and partly of ancient sweat.  The audience included some veteran lickers; some that were even skilled enough to have escaped only slightly wounded from Devi, and several people wearing T-shirts declaring their intent to get Johnny.  Edgar spent the time he was supposed to be helping Jimmy set up devising ways that they could avoid a much larger crowd, but was unsuccessful not due to a lack of great ideas, but from Johnny’s unwillingness to listen to any of them. Johnny only told Edgar, “It’s okay,” in response and ignored even the suggestion that he wear all black and be suspended from the ceiling.

The stage was set up and ready to go when Jimmy re-appeared from a long prance in front of the audience. The others lounged in a side hallway, half-debating whether or not to even go on.

“Guys, you’ll never guess who’s out there,” Jimmy said.

“Wait, I know this one,” Devi answered, holding up her hand and scrunching up her face. “It’s Psychic Doom Woman, right? I’ll start packing our shit.”

“No, no. It’s Dib!”

“What, seriously?” Edgar asked. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Takin’ a break from stalkin’ the Anti-Christ?” Tenna suggested. “Gotta be a rough job, you know, with all that cookie making and video game playing he does.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jimmy muttered. “When was the last time we talked to him?”

“I vaguely recall deciding not to send him into a bottomless pit once,” Edgar said.

Tenna gave him a muffled applause.

Jimmy apparently found more significance in Dib’s presence than any of the others and dramatically pouted until the rest of the group arbitrarily decided it was time to get up and string some songs through people. Johnny, who had been curled up and borderline comatose until the others moved, suddenly jerked into a state of awareness that startled everyone.

“Whoa, you gonna hurl?” Tenna asked, her hand hovering over his shoulder.

“She’s here.”

“Nny, no,” Jimmy said. “I checked. I didn’t see Tess anywhere.”

“I don’t mean her.”

“What?”

“Just go,” Johnny breathed. “I’m coming.”

“I should fucking hope so,” Devi muttered as she went to take her place behind her drums. “You were the one who wanted to do this.”

Johnny did not have the energy to give her any of his customary insults, but his eyes were remarkably effective at conveying them.

When he stood in front of a mass of people with a deep interest in licking him, he came to life.

“Hey, you miserable fuckers!” he shouted. Edgar flinched at the sound of it, wondering how much it took out of Johnny to yell like that.

“So I hear some of you pathetic losers have a sick and twisted interest in my arm here,” Johnny continued, motioning to his cast. He hadn’t chatted with the audience for a long time, and the others were unsure of whether to express concern or hope. “I can tell what you’re all thinking,” Johnny half-lied, “and I can also tell you you’re not getting it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Edgar thought he caught sight of Dib’s hair bobbing over the other ridiculous spikes of hair in the room. At first, it was nothing to be excited about, just a confirmed Dib sighting, but suddenly, Dib started attempting communication, and for some reason, Edgar was compelled to try to understand. He noticed that Devi was also interested in Dib, while Jimmy was keeping an eye on Johnny. Dib made several ‘don’t look now, but…’ faces that would have worked and been subtle in close-contact, but were ineffective across a crowded room. Edgar attempted to communicate back without drawing attention. Johnny, meanwhile, continued to promise that no one would be able to touch him, even though the cast had slowed him down.  Finally, Dib picked up binoculars and gestured toward them dramatically. Edgar looked at Devi, who shrugged. They both tilted their heads at Dib, who looked through the binoculars and across the room, freezing deliberately at a certain point and nodding his head. When he followed the path of Dib’s vision, Edgar caught sight of Pepito.

“Oh, shit,” Devi whispered. Edgar held up a hand to signal her to keep her quiet.

Johnny finished his talk and stood there, looking at the mass of people before him. He turned to look behind him and was greeted by Devi and Edgar making pained expressions similar to Dib’s. Johnny either understood them completely or was delirious with power, because he only smirked before turning back around to dare his audience to come get him.

There was a shift forward in the crowd and Johnny shrank back only slightly before a single piercing scream erupted from somewhere near one of the side exits. General unrest surged through the crowd as people shuffled away from Pepito, who cleared space in front of him for the source of the noise. He’d done some work on her, but standing with him, dressed identically to Johnny, was Banshee.

Jimmy was visibly conflicted at the sight of her, and Edgar felt a little sick. Her hair was dark, and most definitely not green anymore. The way she stood, the way she glared, and the way she slipped around everyone in the audience to make her way to the stage mimed Johnny perfectly. Even her chest was totally hidden and flattened underneath her shirt. Seeing her next to Johnny was eerie and incredibly uncomfortable. She said nothing to Johnny, though they seemed to exchange an incredible amount of conversation through their eyes.

And then she screamed again.  Her voice made a deafening squeal in the speakers, though she appeared to have no microphone. When the awful sound faded, Banshee bowed and mimed Johnny’s stage theatrics down to calling the audience a ‘bunch of miserable fuckers.’ The voice was clearly Banshee’s (even though she was scaling it to sound a little less teenage girl), but it was coming from what frighteningly resembled Johnny’s body.  Conceivably more frightening was that Johnny was not crucifying Banshee for this, but stepping slowly away, expression unreadable, while Banshee simultaneously saved him from the masses and expertly mocked him.

Banshee started to sing a song they hadn’t planned to play - a song they hadn’t written and that Tess had borrowed and haunted them with once - but both Johnny and the audience encouraged the rest of the band to back her up. She obviously wasn’t used to singing in front of a ton of people, but she was used to being in front of them, and her mimicry of Johnny seemed to give her the ability to pretend she wasn’t new to this at all.

“ _Destroy everything you touch_  
 _Today_  
 _Please destroy me_  
 _This way”_

In a few instances, Banshee apparently felt that instruments were not enough and a trace of another song escaped her to blend with the one being played.

“ _it’s my red star”_

Edgar expected things to explode with each and every note, but no one died, or even screamed where it was not lyrically appropriate. Johnny even sang _with_ Banshee on her last chorus.

_“Everything you touch you don’t feel  
Do not know what you steal   
Shakes your hand   
Takes your gun   
Walks you out of the sun  
  
What you touch you don’t feel   
Do not know what you steal   
Destroy everything you touch today   
Please destroy me this way”_

When the last notes of music faded, the audience leapt at the stage with a frightening enthusiasm. Edgar noticed Pepito and Dib as the only stationary bodies in the bunch, though Pepito did make a smug acknowledging nod at Dib while Banshee mimed Johnny’s ‘receiving praise’ mode. With the perfect tone, the exact smirk and just the right level of theatrics, Banshee bowed dramatically to Johnny, extending her arm to him.

“And a- _fuck you_ ,” she said sweetly.

“ _Fuck you, too, Banshee_ ,” Johnny replied, imitating his own copy with a wave of his arm to the audience, “from all of us.” 

He’d meant himself and the others on stage, but the audience took it to mean themselves, applauding and cheering wildly.

Johnny and Banshee laughed. Edgar felt mostly like throwing up on the keys.

****

Banshee returned home to mixed reactions. Edgar still felt that he couldn’t trust her and was wary that more limbs were on their way to being snapped. Johnny behaved as though he had completely forgotten who had broken his arm and enjoyed Banshee’s company immensely. Edgar often caught them both attached to a single CD player each wearing half a pair of ear buds, staring into space or humming along to songs he couldn’t hear. Johnny was friendlier to Banshee while his arm was broken than he had been when she first appeared.  They insulted each other daily, and were often screaming at each other at night while they were both supposed to be sleeping.  Edgar spent a few nights buried under several pillows and curled into a fetal position while Johnny yelled obscenities into the hallway and eagerly awaited them to be returned like some vulgar version of “Marco Polo.”

Tess, Edgar imagined, would have seen Johnny and Banshee’s disregard for his sleep schedule as proof of everything she had been saying all along, but Edgar found that he sort of enjoyed it. He  felt wary of Banshee and still wondered when she had become so violent, but was happy to see Johnny with enough energy to fight with her. He was even happy to see them agreeing and enjoying each other even in a violent fashion. Unfortunately, more than once, flood gates opened, and they stopped having innocent but violent fun and had just violence.

The situation grew to its worst when Johnny made a joke about Banshee’s breasts and how she was likely to attract a lot of lesbians. Banshee dared him to repeat it and, unthinking, since he was watching television, Johnny did. Banshee leapt on him like an animal and began tearing at him. She pulled at his hair, swearing loudly, and vowing to kill him. Johnny scratched her, and tried to pull an earring out of her ear.  Banshee’s ear began to bleed, Johnny screamed about getting blood on him, and Banshee scratched a chunk out of his jaw in response. When Edgar tried to break in, Banshee snarled at him and Johnny didn’t seem to notice he was there.

Johnny screamed that Banshee was useless, and she yelled that he was dependant and crazy. Banshee would never be anything near as good as Johnny at anything, and Johnny was going to die alone or with whatever shell of a person he could convince to waste their life with him.

“You’ll never have parents and no one loves you!”

“People only like you because you scare them!”

“You’re an ugly girl!”

“Only because you’re such an ugly man!”

“No one wants you!”

“You’re abusing the only person who wants you!”

And on and on.

The fights were long, and they were violent, and Edgar had little effect on their outcome. Banshee twisted an ankle once and had to attempt to wrap it while avoiding Johnny’s cruel jabs at her. She worked hard after that to exhaust Johnny to the point that he could no longer fake being alert. When Johnny began to falter and had difficulty standing, Edgar tried to step in and stop it again, but Johnny pushed him away. When the fight stopped long enough for both Banshee and Johnny to tell Edgar to fuck off, Edgar left. He hoped that whatever they were doing would be resolved overnight if he was not there. It had been that way with all their other fights, and he had no plan for what would happen if it wasn’t, but he had hope at the very least.

He walked for a few blocks, intending to stay with Devi and Tenna for a few hours while Johnny and Banshee exploded, but saw Jimmy’s trailer on his way.  What compelled him to knock, he didn’t know, but in a few moments, he found himself looking at a very perplexed Jimmy.

“Uh, hi,” Jimmy said, looking Edgar up and down.

“Hey. Could I… stay here for a little while?”

Jimmy raised a suspicious eyebrow, but waved Edgar inside. The apartment was cluttered, badly lit, and decorated with images of the Homicides and generic guitar posters. There was a smell, but Edgar couldn’t tell if it was a bad smell, or just a different one.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy asked. “Nny and Kleine hate each other again?”

“I don’t think so, actually,” Edgar laughed. “I think only best friends can fight like that. I was just getting in the way of their freakish bonding, so I thought I’d just disappear for a while. I still have trouble not seeing it coming to irreversible violence when they do this.”

Jimmy laughed and cleared some miscellaneous things off of a beanbag on the floor. He offered the spot to Edgar, and then sat himself on the coffee table. He took a drink from the can his hand and looked satisfied with himself.

“Sounds like some intense bonding.”

“Yeah. They’ll mellow out eventually, I guess. I’m just here to keep more limbs from breaking.”

“What, you’re gonna break some arms now, too?”

Edgar laughed and brushed some hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, if I was the one who was prone to breaking arms, I wouldn’t be hiding here with you.”

“Way to man up, there.”

“Do you want to go over there? I’m sure Nny would be _thrilled_ to see you.”

Jimmy gave a nervous laugh.

“Do they always do this?”

“I think this one is sort of a different flavor than before. Less arm breaking and more ‘ _my brain slash boobs are on fire_ ’. You know, depending on who’s screaming.”

“I still just - She can’t be that old…” Jimmy held the sense of wonder in his voice that was more appropriate to a child he hadn’t seen in years.

“She _isn’t_ that old.”

Jimmy sighed and slid off the coffee table. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and Edgar heard the refrigerator open. When Jimmy reemerged he held a glass bottle in front of Edgar’s face. 

“Here,” he said, “sounds like you could use some of this too.”

Edgar examined the bottle in his hand for a few moments. Jimmy was already well invested in the contents of his own before he noticed Edgar’s hesitation.

“It’s not poison,” Jimmy said. “I just opened it.”

“Hey, you never know.”

“What, you think I’m gonna date rape you or something?”

“It seems I can’t be too careful,” Edgar replied, taking a swig.

****

And now there was so little she could do.  Lost time, fleeting images of talking to Edgar, of Edgar being angry with her, of Johnny’s eyes in the background.  The world in her head no longer matched the world she lived in and had instead begun to resemble something small, dark, close and rotting all around her.  There were bright patches leaking through the cracks, but somehow she was too large to reach them.

Tess was scared of what lived in her head, and in that single piece of overlapping experience she found her only shred of sympathy for Johnny.

****

Jimmy often felt conflicted when he had a good time with Edgar.  When Edgar came to stay in his house and find a bit of shelter from the madness in his own, Jimmy wondered why he allowed it.  His old feelings for Johnny hadn’t died, and offering support, maybe even comfort, to the man who had Johnny all to himself did not make too much sense at all. He liked Edgar when he pushed Edgar’s relationship with Johnny to the back of his mind (or out of it, if possible) and they were friends in a way that he’d never been with Devi.

Watching Edgar and thinking, “ _This is the person Johnny wanted. This is the one he chose_ ,” forced a kind of twitch to develop in Jimmy’s lips. Edgar, meanwhile, seemed blissfully unaware.

“Why did you come here?” Jimmy asked. He took a long drink and pretended the question had no weight or importance to him at all. Edgar either fell for the act, or Jimmy was far more transparent than Johnny would ever be and Edgar, with his keenly developed Johnny-fu, was humoring him.

“I didn’t want to see Devi,” Edgar said.

“Fuck you.”

“It’s true!” Edgar protested. “What, are we not actually friends? I can’t just visit? You actually poison this stuff?” He shook the bottle at Jimmy, the remaining drink clinking softly in the glass.

“Johnny doesn’t mind?”

“That you poison me?”

“And again, _fuck you._ ”

Edgar laughed and set his bottle down next to his foot. “The odds are pretty good he doesn’t notice I’m gone right now and he and Banshee are blowing up the house carefree. And really, it’s not like it’s _me_ you wan-” He flinched, seemed to try to come up with something eloquent, and finished with, “Sorry.”

Jimmy shook his head. “I’m just gonna keep repeating myself if I keep talking to you.”

“It would be a warranted “fuck you”, if that helps any.”

“What? ‘ _Fuck you_ , you reasonably considerate person who doesn’t insult my intelligence and or preferences every time we share breathing space’? ‘ _Fuck you_ , guy who apologizes to me’? ‘ _Fuck you_ for not letting me hate the guy that stole my crush in high school’?” Jimmy rolled his eyes and desperately wished for more alcohol. “Yeah, Edgar. _Fuck you_.”

“Do excuse me. I’ll make sure to be a dick more often.”

“I hate that I don’t hate you.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but it was the closest Jimmy could manage.

“I don’t know what makes you think you wouldn’t have the most abusive relationship ever with him,” Edgar said. “Johnny is totally willing to treat people like shit if that’s all he thinks of them.”

“He doesn’t think I’m complete shit,” Jimmy countered.

“I didn’t say that. Just that he would be just as terrible to you if he lived here as he was living in the school.”

Jimmy realized then that Edgar had no idea how bad Johnny had truly been.

“You want to know what happened to me?” Jimmy asked, rising from the table. “You want to hear what he did?”

“This isn’t the baseball bat thing, is it?”

“No. No it fucking _isn’t_. He was here once, with me. With _just_ me.” Jimmy’s blood rushed faster and hotter just with the memory. Remembered how hot it had been that day, that the pavement had been steaming, and that Devi had drenched Jimmy with a hose from some old woman’s garden, and then turned it suddenly on Johnny.

“He was right there,” Jimmy said, pointing to the spot near the door. Even now, years later, he could still see Johnny sitting there if he was drunk or tired enough. “He sat there, because I asked him to come in, because I wanted a chance and _fuck_ if I wasn’t going to take an opportunity like ‘my underwear’s soaked.’”

Edgar looked uncomfortable but nodded, and some of his song swirled into the background of Jimmy’s.  It wasn’t a perfect match, but they did something together Jimmy hadn’t expected.

_“Never been –happy- enough”_

“And he said _yes_ , okay? He sat right there and told me, wet and half naked, that I could have him.” Jimmy pointed to the spot aggressively, mentally blaming it for the anguish he suffered at the hands of someone who once occupied it. “And you know what?”

Jimmy turned to Edgar, who was still listening, rather than taking the pause in Jimmy’s speech as a chance to halt something potentially unpleasant.

“For a few minutes, I did have him. Really had him. Did anything I thought he’d like. Anything I knew I would like.  Anything he’d let me. And he sat there, _right fuckin’ there_ , right next to the dry clothes I brought out for him and let me do it.”

Jimmy remembered Johnny’s skin and how unlike skin it felt when it was wet.  Skin that he never saw when Johnny was clothed. He remembered Johnny’s scars, his uneven lines of tan or sunburn or dirt and his hair, dark, uneven, jagged, wet, and slick against his scalp. Jimmy had just as many recollections of his own skin, and how it had tingled and flared and how he thought it would fall off of him if he gave into sensation and shivered.

What he remembered most, over all that skin, was Johnny’s grin.

“I thought things were going well, thought I’d ask for something for me, and I looked at him. Then he smiled at me, and it wasn’t a good smile.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I guess you know those pretty well, huh?” Jimmy crossed his arms. “He looked at me like that, and he said, “ _Never be hot enough, Jimmy_ ” and then he just fucking...” Jimmy flailed his arms to attempt to approximate Johnny’s very elegant disappearance. “Then he just fucking took off. Took the clothes, half in ‘em already by the time he hit the door, and left me in here with this god damn _raging_ – _ugh!-_ and I’m fuckin’ _wet and naked_ , so it’s not like I can hide it or chase the bastard down or anything. I think I coulda gone deaf from the fucking song in my head. Figures that fucking J _ohnny_ heard my own shit before I did. They kept me locked in here for hours after that. Maybe.  I dunno. Could’a been days.”

What Jimmy hated about the story was not that it was a story about Johnny torturing Jimmy sexually, but that it seemed layered in his head over the memories of who he and Johnny had been once before. The memories of how talented and worthy the homicidal Johnny had been to him were stacked over how talented and worthy the Johnny that would go on to live with Edgar was. The bewildered anger and pain of being left naked and aching in his trailer fell in line with the screaming, wild panic of being murdered and betrayed, and it make him sick. Made him angry. Made him wrong.

Edgar, surprisingly, had only a single question after hearing Jimmy’s story: “Was this before or after Devi?”

“I don- what?”

“Devi. Was this before or after he messed around with her?”

“I have no idea.  I only heard about it well after it all happened,” Jimmy replied bitterly. “They were making some joke and I heard about it by accident.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not a big deal. I mean, it was a long time ago.”

“Says the guy who’s gonna walk out of here and go home to Johnny.”

“Look, what he did was awful, but… it’s stupid, don’t you think? Devi got over what happened with them and that was however long ago. I mean, how old were you?”

“I can be totally aware that it’s stupid and still be angry.”

Edgar opened his mouth to argue, but managed only to nod, lean back in his bean bag and agree.

“I guess so.” He paused, looking at Jimmy over the rim of the bottle he’d picked up off the floor, and said, “You know I can’t rent him out to you to finish the job or anything, right?”

“Fuck you, Edgar.”

Edgar was the person Jimmy most often cursed with a smile.

“I just had to check.” Edgar was nearly laughing and it hurt to look at.

“I know you can’t do anything,” Jimmy sighed, glancing at a poster on his wall, “and I know _I_ can’t do anything, but, God, I would have given him anything he wanted. And even if you told me that you were giving him exactly that, I wouldn’t be satisfied –and I’m _not_! - because I don’t _know._ When you think you’d be great at something, everyone else is doing it wrong.”

“Still?” Edgar questioned Jimmy with no trace of the prior laugh. “After what you just told me, and everything else on top of that?”

“He was a jerk to you too, and you still went after him.”

“Yeah, but I-”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy interrupted. “You were all specially made to tolerate lots of crazy and love it anyway.”

“Not quite like that.”

“But I’m not specially engineered!” Jimmy yelled, smacking his hand a little too hard against his chest. “I’m like this on my own, just normally! No one had to tweak my brain to make me like him, I just _do._ No one convinced me, and I don’t have to worry about how real I am. I’m just here! I’m naturally like you’re… like you’re whatever you are.” Jimmy slumped against the front of the coffee table. “I go around with this all the time. I’m fine, and you’re fine, and he’s fine, or we’re all horrible and I’m either great with it or I want to punch through walls. I should have just tried to fucking hook up with you.”

“I’m not sure how that would have solved anything.”

“I’d be less _this_ if what I liked was more like you and less like him.”

“I’d really rather you not join that particular club, actually. Nothing personal, the membership just seems to be getting exponential at this point and I just…”

Jimmy laughed, though at what he wasn’t entirely sure, told Edgar to fuck off, and pleasantly found the sentiment returned as he threw his head back for the last drops in the bottle.

Jimmy didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, Edgar was sleeping among bottles on the floor and the figure of a young Johnny sat hazily in that damned spot, devilishly grinning.

 

****

  
  
When he returned home the next morning, a little dazed and trying to ignore a slight headache, Edgar found a good portion of the living room broken and rearranged. The people he’d left in said room however, were intact and joking as though they hadn’t a care in the world. Johnny and Banshee turned to face him when they heard him enter and regarded him silently, perhaps wondering why he smelled like Jimmy or why they hadn’t seen him leave. They looked both exhausted and invigorated; Johnny had chopped more uneven sections of his hair off and Banshee was wearing hers in long strings in three new colors. Their clothes were torn badly, though it might have been intentional.  Both had dark make-up circles around their eyes and sported several scratches and bandages. Johnny’s cast had ‘FUCK U!’ written in gigantic rainbow letters over most of the other writing and Banshee’s bindings for her chest looked as though they had been decorated against her will as well.  

“Morning,” Edgar said.

“Morning,” they echoed.

“Have a nice time?”

Banshee and Johnny looked at each other, shrugged and then nodded, muttering things like, “Yeah.”, “I guess.”, and, “It was fine.”

Edgar sighed with some relief. “Good.  I’m gonna go get changed and uh… maybe we’ll clean up later?”

They nodded again in unison, though far less enthusiastically.

Edgar’s clothes reeked of Jimmy and alcohol, and the smells meshed badly with the scent of his own home.

Broken ceramic was strewn over a few of the stairs and streams of toilet paper ran the length of them on both sides. The closet in the hall had been flung open and most of it contents were smashed on the floor or missing. Edgar’s bedroom door had to be shoved considerably more than usual, and he was greeted with the sight of most of his and Johnny’s clothes on the floor, clean and dirty alike. He selected a shirt that he thought he hadn’t worn in a while, tried to ignore the steak knife in the closet door, and pushed his way back out into the hall to survey the damage in the bathroom.

Shockingly, the mirror was intact. The room smelled heavily of perfume, and Edgar suspected more than one bottle had been smashed against the porcelain in the time he’d been gone. There was a new hair dye smear on the sink that corresponded to one of the new colors in Banshee’s hair and a handprint on the wall that matched another. Brushes, combs, scissors and several bottles of medication and vitamins lay scattered on the floor. Surprisingly, a roll of toilet paper was not only in the bathroom, it was on the holder. Edgar left the bathroom assuming that Banshee’s room and Johnny’s were untouched and descended the stairs unsure of what he would be saying.

Johnny and Banshee held small items from around the living room in their hands, though they both looked a little lost and not like they were cleaning at all.

“How was Uncle Jimmy?” Banshee asked. She posed the question as though Edgar had just been over for a friendly visit and hadn’t been escaping a human explosion in his own home.

“He was… fine.”  Edgar made brief eye contact with Johnny and felt distinctly that they’d be discussing Jimmy later that night.

“Shame he won’t talk to me ever again,” Banshee chirped. 

“You’re awfully cheerful about that,” Edgar observed, gathering some dust and broken ball-point pen parts into his hands.

“He only likes me because I look like Nny, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just sayin’.” Banshee shrugged and resumed work on stacking paper by the fireplace.

Edgar glared at Johnny, who only shrugged at the silent accusation.

“Wasn’t me,” he said. “Talk to the closet.”

“You can’t blame this on a closet. Jimmy’s been nothing but great to her! She’s stayed with him when we were having troubles here, and he’s given her anything she’s wanted from him! You and Devi are the only ones who have issues with Jimmy, where _else_ should I think she picked this up from?”

“Our closet, apparently.”

“We went in,” Banshee said. “Well, at least I did.  Nny chickened out and wouldn’t go past the door frame, but we both opened it.”

“Wha- why?”

“We were trying to see if one of us would get killed.”

Edgar glared again, yet no one else in the room responded to his anger.

“And this happened?” he demanded. “She turns into _this_ and it’s because she stood in the closet?”

“Guess so,” Johnny replied casually. “Nothing happened to me, by the way, thanks for caring.”

“Nothing seems _wrong_ with you! This,” he motioned wildly to Banshee, “is wrong!”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” she yelled over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with her, Edgar,” Johnny echoed.

“You can’t seriously think that.”

“No, okay, you’re right, there’s something wrong,” Johnny said, nodding. “I just like her better this way.”

****

Edgar leaned into the door of the bedroom when he shut it behind him that evening.  Johnny was quiet and pretending not to notice that Edgar wanted to talk.

“Nny, can I ask you about something?”

Johnny laughed to himself as he pretended to be absorbed with a pair of action figures on the dresser. “Jimmy and a garden hose, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What part do you want to know?”

“Every part? It seemed like sort of an intense thing with the hose and the naked and everything.”

“It probably was.”

Edgar slid away from the door and moved to the edge of the bed. “Probably?”

Johnny shrugged. “You know, for him.”

“And what was it for you?”

“An experiment, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Johnny began to trace the perimeter of the room, dusting his fingers over the tiny details. “It wasn’t totally planned or anything.  It was just an opportunity to see what Jimmy would do, to see how far he would try to get.”

“I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to be comforted by that.”

Johnny’s fingertips rested on the doorknob of the closet. He lingered there, seemingly searching for the right words.  “So what is it about Jimmy, exactly? Devi didn’t bother you.”

“It was just needlessly cruel. I know you guys were hard on him for a while, I get that. I just didn’t think you would do something quite like that.”

Johnny let out of a puff of breath, faintly laughing.  “You knew going into this that in a past life, I killed people. You included.  And here you are having reservations about me teasing Jimmy? When should I collect my stuff and begin life as a hobo?”

“I’m not kicking you out, I’m not even complaining. I just wanted to know why.”

“Well, okay, I told you.”

“Why did you let him get as far as he did?”

“Because he tried to get there.”

Edgar shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Johnny shrugged and said nothing in response.

“I didn’t think you liked Jimmy,” Edgar said.

“I didn’t.”

“It’s a far way to go, even as an experiment, for someone so picky about being touched.”

The bed shifted when Johnny fell back onto it, though he hadn’t passed out like Edgar had feared. Johnny sighed, twisted his fingers in the string and bracelets on his wrist and spoke to the ceiling.

“There were three of us, okay?” Johnny began. “You know how this is; you were on your own for a while.”

Edgar leaned back to join Johnny in ceiling staring. “Yeah, okay.”

“So until we did all this Homicides stuff, we had two people we could interact with. So shit got crazy. When you think, “This is it, for the rest of my life,” what else will you do?”

“I’m not making moral judgments, I just wanted to know.”

“And I’m telling you. Probably because my brain is being digested. Jimmy was kind of unsubtle about the whole being obsessed with me thing, Devi kind of creeped me out, so I wanted to see what would happen.  It was just as creepy as Devi. Maybe more creepy. Yeah, more creepy.  So I left.  I didn’t like getting touched by either of them in any context, Jimmy was willing to crawl all over me at any opportunity, and neither of them remembered anything like what I did.  So, uh, shit sucked, I guess.”

“I am consistently amazed to hear that rather than attempt to kiss, you all went straight for naked.”

“There was no reason to fool ourselves.”

Edgar shifted to his side, watching Johnny stare at the ceiling. “When you guys first met me, what were you thinking?”

“Just that you knew the same stuff I did. I wasn’t pining away for some sort of romance and jumping on any chance that came my way or anything.”

“That’s good.”

Johnny laughed.  It was weaker than it should have been, but still contagious and once Edgar started laughing, the conversation quickly spiraled into jokes at the expense of Todd and Pepito. Johnny held up well for a while, before he fell asleep in the middle of a nonsensical knock-knock joke about Cerberus. When Edgar opened the door to check on Banshee, he found her sitting on the floor just outside.

“Hi,” she said.

“What are you doing?”

“He really likes you, huh?”

“Were you listening?”

“Tess doesn’t believe you,” Banshee replied. “Still, it seems nice.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She stood up and walked back to her room.

“Tell _what_?”

“Good night, Edgar.”

****

If she hadn't been listening before, Edgar would certainly have given her the inspiration to do it.  Ever since seeing Johnny's notebook and then being forced to grow shortly thereafter, Banshee wanted to know what made Johnny and Edgar function. What part of a relationship between a guy who was willingly horrible and bafflingly nice man made for 'love'? Was it going to be like her own relationship with Johnny and Edgar just enjoyed fighting as long as he could dish out something equivalent? Were Edgar and Johnny each other's stress relievers? Was Edgar really going to keep caring about someone who had willingly harmed her and then helped her trash his entire house? The more she thought about it, the more the red star lingered at the back of her mind. The more she felt the red star, the more she had to know, so she decided she was going to find out what Johnny and Edgar did when they didn't think they had an audience.  
  
They never left the bedroom door open. There was never going to be a time when Banshee was going to sit by a magical cracked door and just happen upon a moment to see what truly went on. She was going to have to settle for audio only, or find a way to sneak in. It had only been a few weeks since she was small enough to fit under the bed, but she was definitely too big for that to go unnoticed now.   
  
The red star brought her the answer. The closet. Both Edgar and Johnny were a little nervous about it and wouldn't go near it even if they saw it open just so. She crawled in one afternoon while Johnny and Edgar were having something that passed as lunch. The room still reflected nothing but bright and empty at her, and was comfortable enough that she brought a snack to tide her over until... until.   
  
The wait was long, and she was sick of trailmix by the end of it, but she got what she came for when Johnny walked into the room talking to Edgar, who was following close behind. It wasn't a perfect view of them, but she didn't need it to be perfect.  
  
"It's not important, I'll get over it."  
  
"It _is_ important, I - do you know where Banshee is?"  
  
Johnny shrugged and continued fishing around on top of a dresser for something. "Her room, I guess."  
  
She saw Edgar turn and walk out of her sliver of a frame and then heard the bedroom door close.  
  
"Edgar, what are you doing? I just came in to get-" Johnny turned from whatever he was picking up and into Edgar hugging him tightly. Banshee saw Johnny's whole body tense up.  
  
"I'm not going to lose you again," Edgar said firmly. "Especially not to something that's in Tess' head and not your own."  
  
"I already told you, I'm fine." Johnny pushed Edgar away, though only enough to get Edgar's chin off of his shoulder. He seemed so much weaker than he'd been when they had had control of the house.  
  
"And I'm supposed to think you're fine when you spend so much time asleep? Or while you're telling incoherent stories?"  
  
"I don't want you to worry about it."  
  
"I'm going to worry! This is what I do!" He sighed, and brushed a few fingers down Johnny's jaw. "You think if you just say I can't worry that I won't?"  
  
"It was worth a shot." Johnny's resistance weakened and his shoulders relaxed.  
  
"Nny, I pretty much exist to make sure you're okay. I can't do that if you're just claiming to be 'fine' all the time."  
  
"What, you want me in some kind of peril?"  
  
"No, but you obviously ARE in some."  
  
"You think you can help?"  
  
"I don't know. You have to tell me what's going on first."  
  
"There are things in my head,” Johnny said. He didn't sound angry or scared, just like he was stating fact. 'The sky is blue, Banshee broke my arm, there are things in my head.'  
  
"And?" Edgar leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Johnny's.   
  
"And... that sucks?"  
  
Edgar laughed at him and got them nose to nose as well. “I think you’re trying too hard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Listen, I have to worry, and I want to help. It's just how I am. I promised to make you happy.” Edgar’s eyes reflected something different when he spoke to Johnny like that. The eyes he watched the rest of the world with were something different entirely.

“It’s a promise now?” Johnny kept his eyes closed, though he was still nose to nose with Edgar.

“One I made to myself, at least.”

“I am happy. Really.” Johnny kept his words short. He sounded like he wanted to run away and that he was too weak to fight all this closeness the way he always did around everyone else.

“You’re happy with all this stuff in your brain?” Edgar ran his fingers over the back of Johnny’s head.

“No, I’m not happy about that, but I’m fine.” Johnny opened his eyes. “I said it was your turn anyway.”

“Funny thing about me being happy,” Edgar said, brushing his cheek against Johnny’s jaw, “is that it requires that you be happy too.”

“That sounds a little dependent of you, Edgar.” Johnny flinched, but he hadn’t pulled away from Edgar at all since the initial shove. Banshee had never seen Johnny stand up to being adored for more than a few moments and found it hard to look away, even when something in her was telling her she should.

“Maybe. You’re just important.”

“Yeah, but so are you.”

“Careful, you’ll make me think I matter.” Banshee had seen bliss in people before – Jimmy when he played a guitar heavy song, audience members when Johnny pointed at them, Tenna when she ate at the Indian restaurant that made everyone else sick – she recognized bliss when she saw it, and Edgar got his from Johnny.

What Banshee saw was what Tess wanted. She wanted _this_ particular Edgar, the one who adored his partner and not the one who bickered or swore creatively or played a keyboard. Banshee wondered how Tess even knew this Edgar existed.

“You do matter,” Johnny said.

“I know, I was joking.”

“No, really.” Johnny looked intently at Edgar, as though trying to burn ‘you matter’ into his skin. “It’s not something I say often, I guess.”

“ _Ever,_ ” Edgar corrected, clearly amused.

“Not something I say ever.” It almost scared Banshee that Johnny bowed to this so easily.

“There you go.”

“If I don’t ever say it, though,” Johnny said, letting his gaze fall to somewhere over Edgar’s shoulder, “then what about everything Tess said?”

“What about it?”

“It sounds like she was right to me.”

Edgar took a step back. “Oh, no, not you too. How am I going to look when I have to convince even _you_ that you're not a psychopath trying to hurt me?”

“It's not about how you look. It's...”

“It's what? Nny, this is … Why don't you believe me? I thought I told you I don't care about what Tess thinks about me or you or us or anything.”

Johnny shrugged and turned his face away. Instead of Edgar, his eyes scanned some posters near the bedroom ceiling. Banshee hoped he wasn't looking for her. “I do believe you. That's the problem. I'm sure you're very sincere. Hell, I _know_ you are.”

Edgar frowned, and leaned closer to Johnny, squinting in disbelief. “Are you... Do you really think you're bad for me? Is that what this is?”

Johnny's only answer was a sigh and feigned interest in the ceiling.

“Johnny, please.”

Johnny looked back into Edgar's face. “The problem isn't you, Edgar. There's _nothing_ wrong with you. You're good, generous, honest, _painfully_ responsible and compassionate, and so well-adjusted for someone in your situation that it has been known to disturb me on a very deep level and keep me up at night. I am not any of those things. I'm an asshole, and not only do I _know_ that, I sort of _like_ it.”

“And... I kind of like you that way.”

Johnny shoved Edgar's shoulder, but without any real effort or malice behind it, and gave a weak smile. “But you shouldn't, you moron. Even _Tess_ has figured out that it's bad to hook up with assholes, and she's fucked up to the point that it rubs off on _other people_.”

“Listen to me, okay?” Edgar smiled and squeezed Johnny's shoulders. “I think that you think that I'm smart enough to decide what I can handle. And I can handle you being an asshole. I'm a nice guy, apparently. I can handle being the nice guy _with_ the guy who is an asshole, because I like the asshole despite – or maybe because of -his asshole-ery. I'm allowed to decide without a gun to my nice guy head that I want to be with the asshole. You, even. God, that was messier than I meant it to be.”

“Yeah, I'm losing track of your noble intentions to sweep me off my ass-feet in all that vocabulary.” Johnny was smiling a little, and some of his usual personality was coming back to his voice. Banshee was filled with simultaneous relief and desire to punch him in the teeth.

“Basically,” Edgar said, “I can take care of myself. I think it's up to me to decide if I want to subject myself to the abject horror of being with you. Unless you don't think I know what's good for me?”

Johnny looked conflicted and shifted his weight a few times before he answered. “I don't think you do. I think if you'd had someone to compare me to, you wouldn't be here. Or _I_ wouldn't, whichever.”

Edgar laughed. “Who on in the world would I compare to _you_?”

Johnny tried to do something, maybe some kind of gesture, but ended up just flailing his cast weakly. “Anyone. Anyone normal? Anyone not an asshole?”

“But I want _you._ And you keep telling me you're happy here.”

“I am.”

"And I'm happy with you here.”

“I know, but-”

Edgar stepped back angrily and blocked some of what Banshee could see. “Do you think I'm an idiot?”

Johnny blinked. “No?”

“Then why don't you think I can recognize when I'm happy with something that isn't hurting me? I'm not some simpleton you dragged off the street drooling on himself.”

“You trust _everyone_! You trust Tess! You trusted _me_ before you ever should have – when I was being a complete dick to you just to see how much of it you would _take_!”

Edgar crossed his arms. “Do you want to leave?”

Banshee's chest tightened as she tried to get a better view without making noise.

“No, I don't. I'm...” Johnny exhaled. “...happy here.”

“Yeah, I'm happy too. Why are we even having this conversation if nothing's changing?”

“Maybe I'm worried about you!"

“I'm not ten – or even fifteen – years old anymore! I think I can handle myself with my own partner, no matter how supernatural he may or may not be.”

Johnny sighed and tried half-heartedly to turn away from Edgar. Edgar stopped him.

“Thanks, okay?” Edgar said softly. “For being worried.”

“Yeah.”

“It's okay. I know how bad you probably could be for me, but I'm still choosing to have you here. Some people smoke, some people drink, I have you.”

“So I'll be your cancer? Charming.”

  
Edgar tried to frown, but there was the sound of a smile in his voice. “Do you have to murder all of my metaphors?”

  
Johnny grinned, just on the edge of a laugh. “Yes.”

Banshee watched them smile at each other but had to turn away when it looked like there would be more in the cards. She sat for a long time with her eyes and ears covered until she dared to listen and heard only the television downstairs. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed.

****

As time went by, Edgar found an odd inconsistency in Banshee's sponge-like mythology absorption.   
  
The girl remembered everything Johnny had ever told her, down to the fractured crossover disaster he'd given her as her first introduction to the concept. She knew which gods were aspects of what and who and knew how they were all related. She knew every story Johnny had ever told her about demons, Hell, Hades, Valhalla, and any other place that might be seen as mildly to extremely unpleasant to people currently alive.  
  
The only story of Edgar's she ever remembered was that he had once been to Heaven.   
  
He told her others, he was sure of it. Of the man who was just assumed into Heaven and stories of the Heavens conceived by outside the Hebrew texts. At first, he thought that perhaps he just wasn't an effective story teller, so he asked Johnny, only for the sake of an experiment, to narrate something to Banshee regarding any Heaven at all as long as there was no way it could double as a Hell.

Despite a broken arm, Johnny gave an impressive performance of every kind of Heaven he could conceive of.  For the few minutes he told the stories, Johnny’s recent trouble staying conscious vanished and he was the same mean teenager that had invaded Edgar’s house years ago.  
  
Days later, Banshee failed to remember the details of the story in any form, and barely recalled even being told it. Johnny was mildly offended that she could forget the lone time when he sat down and didn't tell her about bloodshed, but he found the entire thing interesting objectively. Unfortunately, he knew just as little about what to do with it as Edgar did.  
  
Edgar quizzed Banshee on the things she knew every so often, trying to catch her off guard; if she was just faking forgetting about Heaven to prove she was edgy or weird or somehow like Johnny, Edgar would find out.   
  
He casually mentioned judgment in conversation over dishes, with predictable results.   
  
"I've always sort of thought the Anubis method was on target," Banshee had replied. "‘You go on, or my associate here eats your soul.’"  
  
"There's no chance for any kind of redemption then," Edgar said, passing her the next pan to dry.   
  
"Hence trying not to fuck up in real life."  
  
Edgar sent her a disapproving look at 'fuck', but said nothing against it. He couldn’t feign innocence as only part of the collective that had taught her that word and its many companions, though he suspected that most of it was Johnny's doing.   
  
"Anubis doesn't sound terribly forgiving," he said.  
  
"It's not like it's all him. There's a whole jury there, and Thoth is on that crap making sure Anubis isn't just tossing you to your death because he doesn't like your hair or whatever. It's fair."  
  
"So you either exist or you don't, in that mentality."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You don't think a better Hell would be that the people feel it? You know, forever? You still exist, but you exist in a bad place because you did bad things?"  
  
Banshee laughed. "It's not up to me to decide what Hell should feel like. Wasn't that Johnny's job once? Or maybe Pepito's?"  
  
She'd steered him entirely in a direction he wasn't intending to go, so he dragged the topic out by force.  
  
"But there's no place to go to rest in that world. It's still work and daily toil after you die. There's no paradise."  
  
"Paradise?"  
  
"Yeah, some kind of Heaven."  
  
She blinked at him over a frying pan and seemed to be processing before some cogs spun into place.   
  
"Oh, right," she said. Her tone flattened completely, as though she were being puppeted by a bad actor. "You were there once."  
  
"That's it?" Edgar asked.  
  
She blinked, and her tone returned to normal. "What do you mean?"  
  
"That's all you know about it?"  
  
"What else is there?"  
  
He wasn't sure if he'd caught her, or if she'd outwitted him, but the situation struck him either way. On one hand, she could be actively trying to suppress any knowledge of a peaceful afterlife, and on the other, something could be suppressing it for her.  
  
In an incredibly rare instance, Edgar resolved to visit Pepito on his own, and had very little inclination to take Johnny with him.   
  
He made some excuse or another as to why he was going out, though he couldn't remember whatever it was nearly the moment it left his mouth. He'd gotten so good at excuses lately, thanks to Tess. He took cuts through the yards of his neighbors to avoid passing Jimmy's parking lot on his way there, and made sure to steer clear of windows facing him from the school.   
  
Pepito's porch was warped more dramatically than the last time Edgar had set foot on it, probably because of what Pepito stored beneath the floorboards.   
  
The doorbell sounded thirsty when he pushed it.   
  
Pepito answered cheerily, yet another of his endless supply of cookies in his left hand.   
  
"Hi there!" he chirped, waving with the crumbling snack rather than use his free hand. "What brings you here... alone?" He leaned out of the doorway and checked in several directions for a sign of someone else, but found only Edgar.   
  
"I came to ask you something," Edgar answered.  
  
"Do you want to come in?" Pepito smiled and waved the cookie invitingly.   
  
"Not really. I'm hoping this won't take too long, actually."  
  
"Allll right," Pepito said, cramming the remainder of the cookie in his mouth. "What seems to be the problem?"  
  
"Banshee is-"  
  
"Cerberus' _balls_ , do you guys still think I shat that kid upon the globe or what?"  
  
Edgar flinched at the entirety of Pepito's sentence, but continued, "No, let me finish."  
  
"Please do." Pepito braced his shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms.  
  
"She seems to have a hard time with the Heaven aspect of mythology."  
  
"Most people do. Seems everybody thinks they're entitled to it."  
  
"That's not what I mean. She just doesn't seem to pick it up."  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"Pepito, she knows everything about Hell. She knows every detail Nny gave her, from every conceivable culture, but the best she can do with 'Heaven' is that I went there once."   
  
Edgar wished he had brought some kind of prop to wave around. He was fidgeting like a kindergartener in an agonizingly long school play, rocking on his heels from built up nerves. **  
**  
"Sounds like she's just fucking with you," Pepito said.  
  
"And if she isn't?"  
  
"Then you'd need to talk to someone from upstairs. In case you've missed it, that's not exactly my department."  
  
Edgar sighed. "I don't _have_ anyone from that department! I used to have a book and it stopped dead when Johnny did."  
  
"And you got a girl instead," Pepito muttered.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then," he pushed himself off of the doorframe and assumed his full posture in the door, "I'd say your girl is from upstairs herself."  
  
"Wouldn't she be some kind of expert on that instead then? I mean, we thought she might be here instead of the book, but she acts more like she's _your_ kid than a gift from above."  
  
"I can assure you she'd be worse if she came from me."  
  
"Sorry to offend," Edgar replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
"If she's from them," Pepito said, pointing at nothing, "then they probably don't want you to know that, right? They hid that book from you, just like I obscured Hell's key for your other half there."  
  
"So they made her an expert on Hell to throw us on your trail instead."  
  
"It'd be my guess, yeah."  
  
"And we still don't know why they sent her."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"Do you know something you should be sharing with me?" Edgar eyed Pepito suspiciously.  
  
"No, sir," Pepito replied with an insincere bow. "I just thought you'd have found out by now."  
  
"Guess for me."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Guess," Edgar said. "I’m pretending this isn’t a stupid game that you told her to play with us. Give me your best estimate as to why Banshee was even sent here."  
  
"To fuck with you."  
  
"Okay, now once more with effort." Edgar shifted his weight and found himself borrowing some mannerisms from Johnny that he hadn't been truly aware of internalizing until now.  
  
"My guess," Pepito said, conjuring another cookie, and speaking to it thoughtfully, "is that they didn't modify their plan when Johnny forced me to modify mine."  
  
"When Johnny came back."  
  
"That would be what I mean, yes."  
  
"So they... were going to send Banshee when Johnny died?"  
  
"Some kid that looks just like him and knows everything about Hell?" Pepito said, picking a morsel of chocolate from between his teeth. "Sounds about right to me."  
  
"One day," Edgar said, gazing into the dark windows of the school nearby, "these people will stop doing things to me just because they can."  
  
"And on that day," Pepito replied with a chocolate-coated grin, "we'll be much closer friends. Have a nice day, Edgar."  
  
The door closed and, for once, Edgar didn't feel strongly about it one way or another. 

  
****

 

“Banshee?”  Edgar stood over the couch where Banshee sat sloppily embroidering something onto a skirt. He had to call her name several times before she seemed to notice him. She said nothing when she finally heard him, but blinked up at him, expecting him to say something more.

“I talked to Pepito,” Edgar said.

“Really? I thought you hated him.”  She returned to her needle and thread.

“He told me he isn’t responsible for you.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Do you remember anything from before we picked you up?”

She continued in her steady rhythm, still concentrating on the patterns in her thread.  “I don’t think so,” she answered.

“He thinks you might be from Heaven.”

Banshee flinched, and her embroidery came to a sudden halt. At first, Edgar thought he had landed on something she’d been keeping secret.  She kept silent, and then very slowly began to resume work on her skirt.  When her concentrated rhythm seemed to return to its original speed a few moments later, Edgar touched her shoulder.  She jumped in surprise and only just managed to avoid stabbing herself with the needle.

“Whoa! Don’t scare me like that!” she said, trying to stabilize her breath. “I didn’t even see you standing there!”

“Banshee, we’ve been talking for the last half a minute or so.” Edgar expected a protest or a shocked expression, but instead, Banshee set her sewing aside and looked intently at him. 

“What did we say?” she asked.

“I told you I talked to Pepito,” Edgar said. He tried to put as much weight into the words as they would hold.  “And that he thinks you came from Heaven.”

“You were there once,” Banshee responded predictably.

“Were _you_?”

“I don’t know anything about it. What is it?”

“I’ve tried to tell you. Hell, _Johnny’s_ tried to tell you.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How am I supposed to know if I’ve been there if I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be remembering?”

“There’s nothing before you woke up in the van?”

Banshee made a face, straining to remember, as she looked at the arm of the couch.  She looked uncomfortable and worried.

“If you’re hiding something,” Edgar said, “now would be a good time to say so.”

“I’m not.”

There was a skidding sound from the stairs. Banshee and Edgar both looked to see Johnny crouched on the steps, peering out at them from between the rails he had a tight grip on.

“Why are you even asking her?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, right, I forgot,” Edgar said, dramatically hitting his forehead. “You know everything. I don’t know what came over me.  Do _you_ remember anything inside Banshee’s brain from before we picked her up?”

“It’s cute that you think you’re funny,” Johnny answered. “You don’t remember her telling us where she was from?”

“Obviously not, hence the conversation I was trying to have.”

“I didn’t tell you anything!” Banshee protested.  Edgar looked accusingly at her, but she was focused on Johnny.

“I asked you where you were from,” Johnny said, pointing at Banshee through the bars.

“...and I looked at the roof of the van,” Banshee finished.

“So what Pepito said makes more sense then,” Edgar said. “With everything else, it fits. We just need to figure out what you’re here for. And why they didn’t want us to suspect.”

Banshee sunk into the couch cushions, bringing her chin to rest on the arm of the couch.  “Does it matter?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know?” Edgar asked.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Johnny mocked, “Edgar will only send you to the pound if you’re a mutt angel-girl.”

“Nny, shut up,” Edgar shot back.

“ _An_ gel?” Banshee asked with a tone of disgust in her voice. “Can’t I be Valkyrie or something?”

“Pepito didn’t say anything about angels,” Edgar said with an annoyed sigh. “I think all the angels up there are of the naked baby variety anyway.”

“Which she practically was when we found her,” Johnny said with a smirk.

“I don’t want to be an angel,” Banshee said distantly.

“You’re not!”

“She could be a demon,” Johnny suggested.  “Some kind of succubus.”

Edgar and Banshee both looked ill at Johnny’s suggestion, prompting laughter from the stairs. Johnny said nothing else, but remained on the stairs with a satisfied smile.

 When she and Edgar recovered, Banshee returned to worry.

“Am I not even a person?” she asked.

“Don’t say that,” Edgar said. “Of course you are.”

“Maybe I’m not human! I don’t have any parents and I just appeared one day!”

“Hey, that’s us too, remember?”

“But I wasn’t around before. No one remembers me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Edgar said.

Almost in response, Johnny began humming and Edgar recognized the tune as Johnny’s song immediately. Occasionally, Johnny hummed the song to himself just to be sure he still had it, but this seemed to be different.  When Edgar glanced at Johnny, Johnny sent him a look from behind the railing that set him off balance inside.  Edgar looked back to Banshee.

“Banshee, do you know that song?” Edgar asked, nodding toward Johnny.

“Of course.”

Johnny shifted tunes abruptly to Edgar’s song, which Banshee said she also knew, just as she recognized Jimmy’s, Devi’s and Tenna’s as Johnny hummed them. 

“Do you know yours?”

 Banshee responded to Edgar’s question with a baffled stare.

“Mine?”

“Your song.”

“There’s one that’s mine?”

Johnny still hadn’t moved, but Edgar swore he felt Johnny’s interest pique.

“The ones you knew just now, those are ours. They, uh, … come from us, I guess.”

“Oh,” Banshee said, surprised. “I thought everyone knew those.”

“Technically,” Edgar said, rubbing his arm, “everyone _you_ know knows them, but still.”

“So the stuff I hear all the time actually comes from places.” There was only the optimism of discovery in Banshee’s tone and no question at all. She quickly began asking where the songs on Johnny’s old tapes and CDs were from and Edgar had to try his hand at explaining what had happened to music when he didn’t completely understand it himself.  Johnny offered no help at all and seemed content to watch from the stairs.

“So how do I know which one comes from me?” Banshee asked following Edgar’s shaky recount of the situation.

“I think it’s one of those things where you just ‘ _do_.’”

“Everything sounds like it’s coming from the same place to me. I can’t single out any of them. I guess you sound louder, but... yeah.”

“Is there one you hear all the time? Or one that you really like?”

“All of them.”

Edgar quizzed Banshee on her feelings and perceptions of the songs she heard. He asked her to hum some that didn’t belong to anyone they knew, but Johnny recognized all as songs that already existed.  Banshee seemed particularly disappointed about one involving stars not belonging to her. Her recitation of the songs in her head slowly faded into words and she began to sing along to the tunes she hoped belonged to her. She sang about parties and dancing and rising above abstract concepts. She sang in German and several languages Edgar couldn’t identify.  Johnny laughed at a few of her choices, and muttered the occasional lyrics along with her. 

“If I don’t have one of these,” Banshee said desperately after another failed song attempt, “then I’m not a person. That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“It took a long time for anyone to hear Johnny’s,” Edgar offered. “He had no idea what it sounded like until just a while before we found you.”

“Mine is probably just words,” Banshee whined.

“It’s more likely to be obnoxious techno,” Johnny said from the stairs.

“It could be anything,” Edgar reassured her, “but I’m sure it’s there. Even if you’re sent from somewhere else. Pepito said they were going to send you when Johnny died…”

“Banshee is a failed Grim Reaper. Excellent.”

“Nny, seriously.”

“You can’t even pretend that’s not a possibility.”

“He’s right!” Banshee yelled from the couch. “I can’t swing a scythe! I’ve never killed anything! I don’t even have a hooded cape! I actually _do_ suck at being a grim reaper! What if that’s what I was supposed to do?!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Edgar said. “We didn’t even find you until after Johnny came back, and even then, you were a little girl. You can’t be a reaper.”

“I was supposed to do something,” Banshee muttered.  She looked up at Edgar in a panic and screamed, “I’m here for a reason, and I might never figure out what it is!”

Edgar’s attempts at calming Banshee from then on failed, and from that day she continued to change, but far more rapidly.  Day by day she grew wilder, more unpredictable, louder and a little more frightening.

Sometimes, Edgar thought, reflecting upon where you've been in comparison to where you are is a bit maddening. What started with a relatively innocent little girl called Stephanie was shaping up to involve stubborn and odd Banshee. Dark pigtails to stringy, rainbow mohawk. Edgar's old T-shirts to homemade disasters of the sewing craft with images of goddesses and traffic signs sewn into every piece.   
  
Edgar suspected that Johnny rather approved of the direction Banshee had taken herself, and Edgar liked to think that he did, too, but the tattoo on her arm really made him think twice.   
  
Since Banshee couldn’t just be typical, she never ventured anywhere near the 'hide it from my (not-) parents' stage. Instead, arm still red, shiny and raw on the day she got it, she slid on her socks into Edgar's hip in the kitchen and dramatically flashed the tattoo in his face.   
  
"Tattoo!" she announced loudly, in case Edgar had any hope left of it being marker.  
  
"You're kidding me."  
  
"No," she said, shaking her head and regarding the inked stitches on her bicep, "I don't think I am."  
  
"Is that... stitches?"  
  
"Uh-huh!"  
  
"Why that?"  
  
"You, of course!"  
  
Moments after that, she fluttered off to show her newest body modification to Johnny, leaving Edgar feeling slightly sick in the kitchen.   
  
A memorial tattoo for a man who is not yet dead, but may feel like dying from the very sight of his tribute.   
  
Part of the problem, he thought, was that it was not a tattoo for Edgar, but for Edgar V, the faux dead man who played the keyboard for the Homicides. She'd gotten a fan tattoo for the character Edgar played on stage.  
  
 He couldn’t manage to form the words to ask her where she’d had it done.

****

In an effort to clear up what was wrong with one girl he knew, Edgar tried to turn to another.

She was sitting in the booth against the wall, and appeared to be talking to herself.  Edgar watched Tess flex her hands and look bitter for several moments before he approached her.  The zipper on the coat he had flung over his arm clicked against the table before she realized he was there.

“Edgar! I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly.” 

He took a seat across from her and a waitress asked him if he wanted any coffee almost immediately.  He asked for some water and told the girl he wouldn’t be staying long.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Edgar said, folding his arms in front of him. 

“Yeah, but-”

“No.  There isn’t any ‘but’, Tess.  You told me you’d tell me what you knew if I agreed to listen to you ranting against Johnny. I think I’ve listened to my fair share, and you’ve stalked us more than enough for me to earn it.”

“I know, I know,” she whined, clutching her mug in distress. “But I just can’t tell you everything, it’ll-”

“Then don’t tell me everything.  I don’t want people hurt, but you and Johnny both fall under the category of ‘people’, so you need to help me out with even a little.”

“It’s after him,” Tess said quickly.

“And you _know_ this?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you why.”

“But I should trust you when you say this?”

The waitress brought Edgar’s drink and delivered a small speech about the soup of the day.  Edgar told her again that he wasn’t going to be staying long, but she didn’t seem to hear him and said she’d give him more time with the menu.

“Yes,” Tess answered. “You really should.”

“You haven’t really given me good reason to.”

“Edgar, I swear.  It’s after him and it has been since it noticed he was getting worse.”

“Worse?”

“He’s going fucking nuts, isn’t he? Says crazy shit? Looks at a random woman in black and has a meltdown?”

“You’re not exactly random.”

“But I should be!” She slammed her mug on the table and startled the young family across the aisle. “Edgar, I should be just in the background.  If it was _so fucking important_ that I be here too… You don’t want him to remember this stuff, do you?”

“No. It was sort of a condition for him even agreeing to this life in the first place.”

“Then I really _should_ be random if I wasn’t meant to be best friends with you guys.  It’s sick that he gets what he has.  How a person like that found one decent person who would save him and who would regenerate all of this for him and I found nothing – shit, even – I’ll never understand.”

“I didn’t regenerate everything. Just him.”

Tess scoffed.  “Because that’s really the issue at hand. Come on, Edgar.”

“It’s not his fault, okay?” Edgar said. “He didn’t ask me to do it, he didn’t even give me a concrete answer.  I was just a guy who felt bad and this is what happened!  If you’re so angry about what Johnny has, it’s _me_ you should hate so much.”

“Well I don’t, all right?” Tess hid her face in her hands.  “It was never meant to be like this at all. I was just going to get back at him and get what I was due. That’s it.  I never meant to … but you were just…”

“As much as I’m curious about what I was, you’re stalling.”  Edgar took a drink of the water and stared at her until she stopped looking devastated.

“What else do you want? It’s following him, and it wants him and-”

“What does it want him for? Why do you show up not only unannounced, but impossibly, everywhere we go? Do you know anything about Banshee? I’ll take anything.”

“It wants…”  She stopped, and closed her eyes.

“Tess.”

“It wants to be with him again.  The person he was, the way he was.”  She opened her eyes.  “The guy I remember, Edgar!  It had him once and with all this mess with the dying and the reborn and the whatever, it was severed from him. But it’s grown again and it wants back now.”

“And you know this how?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Tess, please.”

“I can’t! I don’t know what it will do to me!”  She jolted upright and stood there shaking, despite the stares from the other diners.

“Okay, okay, Tess, sit down,” Edgar said, trying to tug on her sleeve.

“You know what the best part of this is?!” she screamed, tears forming in her eyes.  “I bet the only way you’ll ever find anything out is if Johnny talks to me!”

“What?” He released her sleeve and she pulled her arm away quickly, as though she only then realized he’d had a hold on it.

“He ‘knows things’ doesn’t he? He’s ‘amazing’ and ‘talented’ and ‘can read people’, right?”  She glared at him, accusing and desperate.  Her shoulders were shaking and Edgar saw terror in her eyes. 

“Tess, please, sit down, you’re scaring people. You’re scaring _me_. Johnny said it had you, that he thought it was in you. Is he right?”

“Isn’t he ‘ _incredible’_ , Edgar?! Didn’t he know everything that was in you the second he looked at you?!  He knows exactly what’s going on, dammit! And he’s LYING TO YOU!”

Just as Edgar was about to lead Tess away, she became abruptly calm.

“We’ll see you later,” she said coolly. 

She left the building without paying for her tea.  Edgar was left standing at the booth in a panic.  After a moment of consideration, he threw a few dollars on the table and ran out after Tess.  When the automatic doors slid open all too slowly, Tess was nowhere to be seen. 

He ran back to his house, suspecting the worst and wishing he was in the habit of actually locking his doors. When he crashed through the front door, Johnny and Banshee jumped and stared at him from their seats in the living room.  The campy science fiction show they’d been watching announced that they’d “found the problem, captain.”

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked.

“Um, yeah,” Edgar said, brushing some hair from his forehead. “Yeah, I guess I’m fine.”

“How did it go with Mistress of the Night? She stalk you home or something?” Johnny leaned back into the couch in an attempt to see behind Edgar. Banshee seemed to be unaware that she was kneading the pink recliner’s arm with her fingernails as she stared.

“She… she says that thing is after you because you’re going crazy.”

“So I’m not going crazy because it’s following me? Because that’s what it feels like.”

“Maybe it’s both, I don’t know.” Edgar’s heart was still catching up with him and his throat felt dry and sore.  “Okay, listen, from now on, the doors are always locked, right?”

“It’s been unlocked for months,” Banshee said softly. “She’s never come in before.”

“Just humor me, okay?”

“Sit down or something,” Johnny said. “You look like a psycho.”

Edgar sat next to Johnny on the couch, and let out a long puff of air.

“She suddenly freaked out, Nny. I was talking to her and suddenly she was screaming. If she’s really got it in her…”

“It sounds about right,” Johnny said distantly.

“What does it do? What did it do to you?”

Johnny laughed while watching the floor.  He glanced at Banshee, who looked on the verge of tears and then turned to Edgar, sporting a charming half-smile.

“It made me kill you,” he said.

****

He didn’t like sleeping at all, let alone this much. It would have been unpleasant even without dreaming, but it seemed all his subconscious wanted to do was eat him alive with dream images of people he had been, things he had done and voices he might not have totally lost.

The days were so full recently. Banshee had parties with Johnny celebrating nothing, and he happily participated in them as much as his still broken arm allowed.  Sometimes, he thought Banshee was purposefully testing the limits of Jimmy’s workmanship on the cast. She, more than anyone else, would appreciate seeing Johnny’s arm mend in all the wrong places.  Still, evil intent or no, she seemed to spark a lot of what he usually found in the closet.

Alone in that house, tearing the skin off of someone who had cut in line at the sandwich counter, and Johnny heard voices.  Voices that were telling him to run, to escape, that something was coming and he might just outrun it if he started now. They were the same voices that told him skinning people was a good idea in the first place, so he made a judgment call and ignored them.

The next voice was familiar, was real, was human.  Edgar.

The dreams had them doing all sorts of things before the end – talking to a Banshee who shouldn’t exist, discussing the death Edgar had not endured, visiting the home they didn’t share and the trailer Jimmy didn’t inhabit.  In every case, though, the end was the same. Johnny found himself unable to breathe while Edgar talked casually about something on television. In those moments, he tried desperately to die and wake up at the same time.  Only in Johnny’s last second did Edgar ever seem to notice there was a problem.

“Oh shit! Hang on, I’ll fix it!”

And then nothing but waking up.

Whether it was the way his last life had ended he didn’t know.  His brain certainly wanted him to think so, but until he managed to figure what the closet was attempting to do to him, he wouldn’t know for sure. 

He woke up next to Edgar hours later.

****

 

“Part of our solution is sitting here.”

“In what?” Edgar looked up from the bits of confetti from one of Johnny and Banshee’s impromptu parties in his hands to see Johnny staring intently at the closet door.

“In there.”

Edgar straightened his back, ready to intercept Johnny’s path to the closet if need be. “Johnny, no.  Nothing good has happened because of that fucking closet.”

“And nothing good has come of Tess, or Banshee.”

Edgar dusted the confetti from his hands and let it flutter to the floor among discarded clothes.

“That isn’t true,” he said.

Johnny shrugged, approaching the closet. “It’s close enough.”

Edgar stopped him from touching the doorknob.

“What do you think you’ll get from this?”

“Edgar, fucking pay attention! Banshee was the one who found this and opened it.  Tess shows up around the same time, Banshee likes her… What _won’t_ we get from this? I’m just going to go in and stay until my brains are plastered to the walls.”

“I don’t want to do it again.”

“I didn’t ask you to. Stay out here and keep an eye on my brains if you want.”

“No, I have to see it with you. If you’re going in, I have to go.”

“Edgar the Martyr. Make up your mind.”

“I’m still going. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

Johnny gave Edgar no time to consider what he had said and flung the door open. He latched onto Edgar’s wrist and dragged him inside the room and over the threshold they’d never completely crossed before.

The view was simultaneously frightening and comforting.  Edgar could see his Johnny layered over the old one and they both expressed a state of wonder at meeting so entirely. Johnny’s gaze darted around as though following a fly, and his grip on Edgar’s arms tightened. Both of Johnny stared out at the room with wide eyes, and both linked to Edgar.  Edgar felt part of his own old self sitting under his consciousness, but the old brain imparted nothing new. 

The sound of a regular tone hung over the air.  He was seeing sounds, hearing colors. The sounds of the closet’s accumulated songs felt tangible and solid. Johnny’s song spiked angrily among the tune in the closet, and Edgar heard his own just floating along, solid, holding on, unaffected by its immersion in other sound. Over the colors of static, voices fell into the mix.

_“Pull me close look into my eyes  
Smile at me when you stick in the knife”_

 

“Everything is in here,” Johnny said. Edgar could actually see Johnny’s voice being smeared around them as the words left his lips.

“Everything?” His own words carried color too, though they didn’t match Johnny’s colors well.

“Everything I know.”

_“We're bleeding into a cup  
when we've got enough  
We'll just paint the walls  
And we don't care how much it hurts  
You think you're cursed it's what you deserve”_

“You can’t- I have to get you out of here if-”

Johnny shook his head and his hair blurred out his face for a moment.

_“'Cause you're talking rock and roll  
Walking karaoke soul”_

“I’ll never remember it.  It’s just passing through, it’s scenery. Trees, fences, highways signs. Forgettable.  It’s sick and ugly scenery, but it won’t stay long.”

“Then what’s here? Tell me, and I’ll remember what you need for you.”  The other set of memories grew warm when Edgar made the offer.

_“I can see you desperate to please  
Let me treat you for your disease”_

“This is everything. This isn’t just what I lost, this is everything.”  Johnny’s eyes closed and the colors and voices blurred as they rushed around him.

“What about Tess, Nny? Banshee? What does this have to do with all that?”

“I would have killed you. You were _so_ lucky. I was even luckier…”

_“Your wolf suit is wearing thin and your real skin looks like it never bleeds  
And you're playing to the crowd as the ship goes down   
comforting me”_

Johnny spoke with a pained fondness in his voice, and looked on the verge of tears. Edgar tried to shake Johnny’s shoulders, but found his head filling with things that made it hard to move; things like everything that had previously been the other Edgar’s head.

“You have to try to think, Nny, what good is this?” He felt disconnect. He felt the wall that had existed between them in the life that blurred around them now and it made it difficult for him to reach properly, to not feel a tinge of worry that Johnny would not want to be touched.

“It’s everything,” Johnny said. “Every Freezie I’ve ever had, every show I ever watched, every feeling I ever bent and twisted into an imitation of itself. Every time you almost died for my mangled wishes. The way things looked in my head and how I could never get it out on paper. Everything I already knew. My name.  How to walk. How to talk. Your name. How to hold a paintbrush.  Symphonies. Street names. Smells. Flavors. Blood and-”

 

_“'Cause you're talking rock and roll  
Walking karaoke soul  
If you see me falling sleep  
Please don't wake me from this dream”_

Edgar pulled on Johnny’s shoulders, jerking his eyes open.

“Johnny, we’re going now.”

Edgar thought Johnny might have nodded, but even if Johnny had put up a fight, Edgar would have hauled him through the doorway and away from the inside of someone else’s head anyway. When Johnny’s feet crossed the threshold, he fell forward, out of Edgar’s control, and crashed into the bed as though someone had shoved him from behind. Edgar rushed to his side immediately.

“Are you all right? Are you awake? Please don’t be crazy. I can’t do crazy.”

Johnny shook his head like he would shake off sleep. “I’m fine.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“More of the same,” he answered. “And fuck, I think I was a little fixated on you.”

“You said it was everything, and that you wouldn’t remember all of it.”

“I don’t remember, at least not specifically. I remember things going through my head, but not a lot stayed there. But it _was_ everything. It wasn’t just what I’d need to become him again, it was what a blank person would use to become me or him.”

“A blank person?”

Johnny looked at his hands, traced the scars that traveled over his knuckles and looked back to Edgar.

“Someone like a person sent to learn quickly, grow quickly and freakishly resemble an existing person.”

“Banshee…”

“Is me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song this time is Karaoke Soul by Tom McRae, along with snippets of Squonk Opera's 'White Noise' again, we just get to hear some actual words this time. Also snips of "Destroy Everything You Touch" by Ladytron and a single repeating line of The Birthday Massacre's 'Red Stars'.


	12. Kingdom Burning Down

“She’s what?”

“I think she’s me.”

It had been a long time since the group had gathered in Devi’s living room to discuss things. They felt comfortable and at home there, like they had in the choir room years before. Everyone had a place.

“Nny,” Devi said, narrowing her eyes, “the kid is a girl. Swear to God.”

“I know that! She made a big enough deal about her chest for fuck’s sake. I know she’s a damn girl.” Johnny was sitting on Devi’s table, with Edgar and Jimmy on the couch behind him. Tenna sat on the couch’s arm and Devi paced around in front of the kitchen waving a paintbrush for emphasis.

“What I want to know,” Tenna said, “is why she’s wearing glasses.”

“Uh, how about she can’t fucking see?” Jimmy said.

“Maybe it was to throw us off the trail or something,” Edgar suggested. “You guys never stopped talking about how much she looked like Nny without the glasses.”

“Edgar, you’re not a girl, are you?” Tenna asked suddenly.

“What the fuck?” Confused and maybe a little disgusted at Tenna’s serious tone, he slid across the cushion closer to Jimmy.

“ _You_ wear glasses,” Tenna said. She pointed as if to remind him.

Edgar scowled. “So does _Tess_. And Devi when we met, and Dib, and probably Todd and half the damn world. What the hell.”

“So Banshee’s eyes aren’t as strong as Johnny’s, and she has boobs,” Devi interrupted.

“They’re not the same color, either,” Jimmy pointed out. Everyone but Johnny stared at him, mouths twisted in expressions of confused horror. Jimmy quickly amended his statement, “Her… eyes, I mean. Not her boobs.” He stood up from the couch and made a big show of opening a bottle of rootbeer that Devi had left on the counter.

“What the fuck were they doing trying to make a girl me?” Johnny asked.

“I just want to know why they sucked so hard at it, really,” Tenna said. “And why she has Edgar eyes. I think we should make sure he’s not a girl.”

“Because I definitely had a baby in the van, hid her from you guys for a couple months, and then chucked her in a ditch when I realized I had no damn breasts to-”

“Christ, Edgar!” Devi and Johnny shouted.

“Tenna’s the one who seems to think I’m some kind of hermaphroditic baby machine! Talk to her!”

“Sorry,” Tenna muttered. “Maybe it’s actually Johnny…”

“No,” the others countered.

“Why am I the only one who hasn’t seen Johnny naked?” Tenna pouted. “Even _Jimmy_ got to. Is this why I’m not really in the band?”

“Can we stop with the me naked and focus on the not-me girl?” Johnny attempted to cross his arms, but his cast made it an awkward position, so he substituted some ‘meant to do that’ dramatic gesture instead.

Devi sat next to Johnny and clapped her hands together. “So, someone needed to make a new Johnny, but he had to be a girl?”

“Or they needed a new regular Johnny and fucked up,” Jimmy suggested.

“But fucked up _how_?” Edgar asked, still as far from Tenna as he could manage without being in Jimmy’s lap. “What did they even do to make a new Johnny?”

“Any wackos come tear out your hair or make you pee in a cup a couple months back?” Tenna asked, playfully poking Johnny’s leg with her toe.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, “I totally forgot about those people who wanted me to fuck a chicken back in January. That’s not anything I would have found suspicious at all. Why don’t I just find their number and ask them to forward us their notes?”

“So that’s a ‘no’ on them collecting stuff from you then.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jimmy said as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He squeezed back onto the couch and gestured to the ceiling with his rootbeer. “They’re dumb up there, but I think they’d be a little more careful than, “Here man, fuck this chicken.” They probably took some hair from a hotel room or something. On a pillow case, you know?"

“Oh, shit,” Edgar said suddenly, jerking away from Jimmy as though he’d been shocked. He became a little nervous when the group’s attention focused on him and tried to convey what he’d realized in mime before the attention became a concentrated glare.

“Come on, Edgar. Fess up,” Tenna prodded.

“Before we found Banshee, right when Tess started sending me notes and stuff, we… lost some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Devi asked.

“Um, stuff.”

Jimmy looked like he was preparing to cover his ears and Tenna leaned in closer.

“Edgar, what kind of stuff?”

“Some scissors, a comb maybe, a razor… some sheets.”

“Sheeeets,” Tenna snickered. Johnny looked like he wanted to hit her.

Devi, attempting to be tactful while Edgar looked a little embarrassed, took the conversation, “I’m assuming the sheets are a little more relevant than the stuff with tiny bits of hair on them.”

“A little.”

“So theoretically… Banshee is part Edgar in all that Johnny.”

“That sounds sooo incredibly wrong,” Jimmy moaned. Edgar angrily elbowed him in the ribs, splashing rootbeer onto Jimmy's thigh.

“Sheesh, Jimmy,” Tenna said, “It’s not like you don’t know that they’re fucking each other.”

Johnny hit the table with his good hand and kicked Tenna’s shins. “Why is this whole conversation about me naked?! Fuck you guys!”

Edgar tried to offer some excuses in his defense without turning bright red in the process and Devi held Johnny down while he attempted to maim Tenna. Several minutes of incoherent screaming and three bandages from Devi's understocked first-aid kid later, the conversation returned to its original topic of Banshee.

“So…,” Edgar started awkwardly, “You guys really think Banshee is our kid by way of some dirty sheets?”

“You think those aren’t _your_ eyes on Johnny's mysteriously female body?” Devi narrowed her eyes at him.

Edgar bit his lip and then replied, “I hope they’re not?” 

“It doesn’t matter if they are,” Johnny said. “Kid is fucking crazy and we need to figure out why she’s here before she goes crazier and cracks my head open looking for candy.”

“Did they just not know you were dead?” Jimmy asked.

“Even if they did, why the hell are they trying to make more of me? They apparently know I live with Edgar, how hard is it to check if I’m still here?”

Devi suddenly seemed to remember something and looked intently at Edgar. “Does Banshee know about any of this?”

Edgar shook his head. “I haven’t mentioned it."

“Oh, she’ll _love_ this,” Jimmy grumbled.

“Thank you for your understanding,” Edgar said.

“Stop whining, Jimmy,” Tenna said, shoving his shoulder. “Your babies with Nny would be seriously ugly anyway.”

Edgar looked a bit like he didn’t know how he’d ended up on the couch at all and Johnny’s glare grew increasingly murderous. Devi broke in to attempt to keep peace once again.

“Shut up, jeez,” she said, swatting at Tenna’s leg. “You guys planning on telling her about this?” Edgar sighed when she raised her eyebrows at him.

“I’ll tell her, I’ll tell her,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “It just feels a little premature to freak her out with ‘You might be our freak-clone-baby!’ unnecessarily.”

“I don’t think it’s ever too early to tell someone that,” Tenna said, sticking her leg out to invite Devi’s impending beating.

“I’ll tell her,” Johnny said, poking idly at his cast. “She either believes everything I say, or thinks I’m full of lies. I don’t particularly care which way she swings this time around.”

****

Banshee was not amused when Johnny told her, though he never managed to get beyond ‘clone of me’ before she cried foul and jumped up from the couch.

“You just want credit for how awesome I am!” she cried.

“Oh come on, like I’d want to be a teenage spaz again. You’re not that cool, Banshee.”

“I am too!” Banshee insisted, stamping her foot. “And I’m not you! I have glasses and boobs, remember?”

“I didn’t say you were me. Just that you were supposed to be once.”

“And what happened?” Banshee challenged. “Did I just decide to be me one day?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I existed and it fucked you up.”

“I’ll say you did.”

“Okay, okay, just hold on,” Edgar said. “Let’s think about this for a minute. If Pepito is right and Banshee is from upstairs, and we’re right and she’s a bad copy of Johnny… why did the guys in Heaven want to make a copy?”

“Because I died?” Johnny guessed.

“They didn’t notice you coming back to life? That was sort of big. I mean, _I_ thought it was important.”

Johnny shrugged.

“I didn’t show up until months after Nny died, though,” Banshee said. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Edgar answered, crossing his arms. “It… wasn’t long at all. We were still sort of coasting on Johnny’s high from coming back.”

“Way to ruin it, Banshee,” Johnny said.

“Fuck off.”

“How did they not notice?” Edgar asked. “They used to watch me so closely… surely they’d know if you were still here.”

“Maybe they did know, but it was too late.”

“Then why I am here at all?!” Banshee shrieked. “What am I doing if I can’t even do what some angel fucker somewhere _made_ me to do?”

“Maybe you’re still going to do it,” Johnny said. He was calmly inspecting his fingernails as though the answer was just under his nail polish.

“What is it?” Banshee asked, a slight trace of panic in her voice. “What am I supposed to be doing?”

Johnny looked at her, stared at eyes that were the wrong color if they were to have been his, and shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

****

“I wouldn’t have existed if Johnny didn’t die.”

 “Don’t say that.” Edgar thought maybe it was possible that Banshee would have existed without Johnny’s death, but wasn’t thrilled about explaining the disaster with the sheets to her. And even without the ‘magical clone baby’ element, she was pretty likely to be Johnny’s replacement given the logic Edgar and the others currently had to work with.

“It’s true.”

“It’s not a good attitude,” Edgar said.

Banshee made a face and recoiled in her seat.“Ugh, do you want to talk to me about becoming a woman and accepting myself too? Gross.”

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing.” Banshee was quiet for few moments, and Edgar almost left the room with another notch for his failed conversations collection. Instead, Banshee blurted out, “Edgar, what is Heaven like?”

Something jumped inside Edgar when he heard Banshee bring up the word on her own.

Cautiously, Edgar continued the conversation. “Excuse me?” 

“What is Heaven like?”

“What brought this on?”

Banshee gazed out the window over her shoulder as she played with a rubber band on the table.“I keep thinking it must be important. I think you’ve mentioned it before. And a long time ago, Aunt Devi and Aunt Tenna told me that you would explain what it was.”

“Me specifically?” Part of Edgar was annoyed that Banshee would remember the singular time that Devi and Tenna off-handedly mentioned Heaven and not the millions of times he’d deliberately tried to spell it out for her.

“Yeah.”

“It’s... this is hard to explain.”

Any mention of ‘Heaven’ brought images to Edgar’s mind that were just as unpleasant, if not more so, than the ones he had associated with Hell. He’d been to Heaven, or at least its gates, only once, but since that was all most people ever got, he hadn’t been complaining about it. Unfortunately, his experience there was less than blissful. 

“You were there once?”

“Yeah, just before this life. Just at the gates, though.” He hated how often he had repeated this information in the last few months.

“What was it? Aunt Devi said good people go there. _Just_ good ones, I mean.”

“That’s the theory, yeah. I really don’t know because I was never inside. I gave up getting the chance to go in to come back here and help Nny.”

“You’ll get to go again, though.”

Edgar’s thoughts turned immediately to Johnny’s grand plan to die and take Edgar with him, and tried not flinch.

“I hope so, yeah.”

“What’s it supposed to be like?”

“Stories differ, but the idea is angels and clouds and fluffy white happiness shit, mostly.”

“That’s it?”

Edgar laughed for a moment.

“No, not really. I think Johnny’s starting to rub off on me. The idea is that it’s the place that good people go to be rewarded for being good while they lived. There are divine beings and God, usually. Everything is bliss and peace, you are reunited with the people you loved in life, and there’s nothing like pain or suffering or war or anything like that.”

“Just _one_ god?”

“I guess you haven’t read those myths. A little less exciting with only one, I suppose.”

Banshee shrugged. “I read a little of the Bible in a hotel room, once, but not a lot of it. There were lists and lists of people’s family trees and a whole thing about not killing and ‘beget, begat, begotten’, and smiting and sacrifice and not having kids with people you were related to.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. There’s some good stuff between the lists, though.”

“Oh, I know. Lots of killing, mostly.”

“That’s not really what I meant, but I’m not surprised that’s what you liked.”

“It’s kind of boring with only one God. Besides, where are all the good people from all those other religions supposed to go, if Heaven is the only thing that exists?”

“I think the official stance is that they weren’t good people because they didn’t believe in that one God, though some think there’s a special place for people who were born too early to get the opportunity to be converted.”

“That’s a little better,” Banshee said, absent mindedly braiding a long section of pink hair. “But what happens to us?”

“What?”

“We not only don’t worship _him_ , we’ve eaten cookies with a guy we’re pretty sure is the _Anti-Christ_.”

“I… don’t know.”

“When Nny died, he went to Hell, didn’t he?”

Edgar nodded, but remained quiet. Banshee prodded further.

“If you had died, your Heaven would have had no one in it. He could never go up there, could he?”

“Banshee, could we stop talking about this?”

“Are you afraid of it?” She wasn’t challenging him for backing away, like Johnny would have done, but she was pressing the issue. The tone in her voice sounded betrayed.

“I’m not afraid of death.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

There was a tinge of anger in Edgar then as he felt himself having a very familiar conversation. He remembered the absurdity of his current life when it was stripped down to its basic components and parts of him boiled inside at the kind of injustice he sat through occasionally. Maybe Tess had really been on to something.

****

“So. Banshee.”

Johnny flinched when Edgar said the name.

“What… about her?”

“Do we have any way of proving what she is? Or what we’ve been telling her she is?”

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Nny, if she _is_ , then we have a resp-”

“A responsibility?” Johnny challenged. “Really? It’s _our fault_ that someone took sheets, is it? It’s on _me_ that I died and am apparently so replaceable that it doesn’t matter if the new me has ovaries? Not a chance.”

“Who else is going to do anything?”

“We’re all doing things! She lives here and not in a drainage ditch! What more do you want? Just leave it alone.”

“She doesn’t live here, she’s boarded here. She’s tolerated here.”

Johnny actually growled in response. “If you wanted a magical happy family to start with, you probably should have found yourself a _girl._ ”

“Apparently I didn’t even need one of those!” Edgar yelled back.

“That isn’t my fault! She has nothing to do with me! I wasn’t wishing on shooting stars for babies or trying to convince Devi to carry a love child! She was on the god damn side of the road!”

“And we picked her up. We owe her something a little better than all of this.”

“It’s a little late for that. She doesn’t want it anymore. This is all fucking ridiculous anyway.”

“What is?”

“That I am having a conversation with you about a kid that belongs to _us_. Fucking seriously?”

“Oh, that part. Yeah. Maybe it’s some kind of punishment for-”

“Yeah, no. Stop.”

“Sorry you’re upset about it. Later maybe?”

Johnny glared. “That’s what I said when you walked in here.”

********

After her experience on  stage, Banshee discovered that she was more visible than she had been before and thus went outside less and less. She complained that people followed her when she went anywhere on her own. She felt trapped in the house and destroyed parts of it in retaliation. She sang. She tore up everything she was given and rearranged it until she was satisfied. She surprised Edgar more often than he wanted to admit. She drew on everything, and she destroyed everything except what was hers.

The only problem with Banshee as Johnny's replacement was a single chromosome.

Edgar could only assume that Johnny was meant to take on some sort of task that would have been hard to accomplish while dead and that had made Banshee necessary. Or else the guys upstairs had taken pity on him and were intending to create a replacement just for Edgar's enjoyment. That would sort of explain Banshee's accelerated growth and her attachment to him, though how they expected him to form a relationship with their creation after he had watched her grow he had no idea.

Sometimes, when she was trying her hardest to be her own person, she reminded Edgar the most strongly of Johnny. When he heard looping noise from her room that he could hardly sort out, he was treated to an experience that made him feel like he was back in high school.

When she told him he could come in, he asked what she was playing.

"A song."

"I know, but, what the hell is it saying?"

Banshee blinked at Edgar, then looked at the speakers, confirming the sound was coming from them.

"You can't tell?" she asked.

"It's in... I don't know. What language is that?"

"I dunno."

"But you understand it."

"Of course."

The music pounded behind her and her foot twitched while she stood talking to him. All Edgar could understand was the occasional 'hey!' but the rest didn't even resemble German, which Banshee would have been able to piece together.

"What does it say?" Edgar asked her again.

"I can't just tell you... that doesn't make sense."

While they stood there, the song started again. The opening was loud horns and tribal drumming. Edgar thought they sounded like the start of a hunt and Banshee responded like she desperately wanted to go hunting. She mouthed all the nonsensical words and when she saw that Edgar was just watching her enjoy the song, she grabbed his wrist.

"I can show you what it means, I think.”

Banshee's dance to the song was undignified to say the least. It was largely stomping and flailing, and Edgar wasn't about to follow her until she glared at him. She instructed him to do as she did until he “got it.” He felt utterly foolish with his arms in the air and a song he didn't understand in the background, but Banshee was insistent.

The room spun, and his arms felt like the blur they resembled. Banshee sang along beside him, still flailing and jumping. The bass of the song dictated Edgar’s heartbeat and he felt drums in his blood. The song came sailing to the surface of his brain and combined with Banshee’s speakers, it melted rational thought from inside and out.

Banshee grabbed Edgar’s hands when the song experienced a small break, and she spun them both around for the final reprise of the chorus. She was laughing, singing, screaming, chanting. Something. He couldn’t tell what was music and what was Banshee and what was in his head and what was coming from the speakers. Whether Banshee was doing anything even remotely in line with the lyrics or whether she was just shrieking with glee, he didn’t know, but he wanted to do the same something and nothing she was. By the end of their brief whirl, Edgar was ready for the next round of drums and tried to pull off a two-person stampede just as enthusiastically as Banshee.

When Johnny came in two repeats of the song later to ask why it sounded like a tribal sacrifice upstairs, Edgar understood the song, though he still didn't know a word beyond 'hey.' The dance, if it could even be called that, had been exhausting, but somewhere in that exhaustion was the feeling of the song. In all his experiences feeling the songs inside of people, and the feeling of playing music _for_ people, he had missed that there was still something to be had for music outside of him, even if was technically in his head somewhere.

As Edgar followed Johnny back downstairs, Banshee turned the song up louder and screamed the lyrics after them. It remained close to the surface of Edgar’s mental music collection for a long time.

****

The voice was coming from Banshee’s room, and, as Edgar discovered when he looked in through the partly open door, it wasn’t coming from her mangled music player. When the tune ceased, Edgar eased the door open.

“Was that you?” he asked.

Banshee startled and spun around, wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” Edgar said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just heard the song and wondered.”

She sighed, relieved. “It’s okay. Was I too loud?”

“No, not at all. It sounded great." Edgar braced himself against the door frame, hoping to stay a while.  "Do you like singing?”

“I don’t know, I guess,” Banshee answered, sinking to the floor in the center of the room.

“You don’t have to stay as the mascot, you know. If you can do this…”

“Eh, I don’t know.”

“Not interested in the job?”

“Isn’t it Nny’s?”

“Devi’s done it before, you know that.”

Banshee looked thoughtful and twirled a long piece of her multicolored hair around her fingers.

“What does Nny do when she takes over?”

“Eh, goes and absorbs adoration from the audience, I guess. Looks pretty or something.”

She stopped fussing with her hair.“‘ _Pretty_?’”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why did you do the Homicides thing anyway?”

“No one could see us.”

“I mean you specifically.”

“No one could see _me_?” Edgar tried again.

“Really?” Banshee sounded disappointed. “It just doesn’t seem like your kind of thing what with the killing and screaming and black light and everything. I’d think a band you started would be… well, you wouldn’t be in stitches in it.”

“I think you’re assuming that I started it.”

“Then not ‘started’. ‘Were part of the beginning of.’ Nny says you named the group.”

“My name was the one they liked, yeah. But it was up against some bad puns and Jimmy’s ‘Death in German’ collection, so...”

“‘ _Die Morde_ ’?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

She shook her head and said something in German under her breath. “Still. This is what you like?”

“I do. I wouldn’t live with Johnny if there wasn’t an odd sense of humor buried in me somewhere.”

“But you’re not going to do this forever, are you?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“What do you want to do instead?” Banshee turned her attention – her nervous twitching habit – to a patch on her pants.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Edgar said. “But something I’m proud of. Or something I’ll be remembered for.”

“You aren’t proud of the Homicides?”

“It’s more Johnny’s thing now. I think it was always more Johnny’s thing.”

“Does Nny want to do this forever?”

“No.”

“What does he want to do then?”

“Live forever. Become God maybe, I don’t know.”

“You’d think the fastest path to that would be to keep performing.”

“He’s found a better way.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up and the amount of interest she showed worried Edgar just a little. “What is it?”

“I can’t really say,” Edgar lied quickly. “He hasn’t explained it to me in detail.”

“When he does, can you tell me?”

“I suppose so, but why? You in a hurry to have eternal youth or something?”

“I _have_ grown faster than most people, in case you missed that.”

“Worried you’ll get old?” Edgar laughed.

“Maybe a little.” She looked back down to the patch on her knee, and then out the window.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If you’re as much like Nny as you look, you’ll just stop aging in a few years.” He was pretty sure that was sarcasm, but he was not completely convinced that Johnny would ever grow old.

“Sure.”

Edgar coughed and tried to redirect the conversation. “I think Johnny would be excited to try something with you singing, though. To get back to that.”

“It could be okay.”

“This really doesn’t interest you? You used to love yelling into the mic.”

“Yelling is a little different than singing," she replied quietly.

“Just try it?”

She turned back to him, and glared right through him. "And be more like his clone, right?”

Edgar didn’t know what to say.

********

“She’s going to snap one of these days,” Johnny told him when they were alone in their room.

“I know. I think. I think I know. I just… I don’t know what to do about it. She’s angry that she’s supposed to be you, so she’s just all…,” Edgar held his hands up, hoping perhaps to catch the word he wanted as it fell from the sky. It never came, and he dropped his hands into his lap a few moments later.

“How old do you think she is?” Johnny asked.

“A few months.”

Johnny sighed. “I mean, how old would anyone who isn’t Banshee be if they looked like she does.”

“Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“You met us around that age.” Johnny was occupied with trying to catch flecks of dust in the ray of sunlight from the window. As far as Edgar could tell, he thought that whatever he was saying made perfect sense.

Edgar attempted to inject some clarity into the conversation. “So… if she’s replacing you, then she has to do something from where you and I started? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Maybe. Was there something we forgot to do while we were all spazzing out about my keys?”

“Go to school, mostly,” Edgar replied, shrugging. “Other than you dying happily, I can’t think of anything we were obligated to do.”

“Just a thought.” Johnny’s breath was sharp and shallow, like he was panting from a marathon he hadn’t run.

“You said before that you think it’s you making Banshee grow. And that it’s happening through Tess.”

“Something like that, yeah.” Johnny uncurled his fingers and inspected his palm for some dust that he had to know he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Are they doing this to you, then? Is Tess sucking the life out of you through Banshee?”

Johnny regarded the nothing in his hand. “It’s probably not Tess proper, but it’s a pretty strong possibility. The thing that has her doesn’t like me very much.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Johnny laughed. “Kill everyone?”

“Don’t,” Edgar threatened.

“I want you to be happy.”

Edgar half-smiled. “I meant about Tess and Banshee.”

“So did I.”

Edgar leaned closer. “Johnny, I-”

Johnny’s hand against Edgar’s shoulder stopped him from getting very far. “Don’t.”

“You don’t even know what -”

“Just don’t.”

Johnny looked tired and maybe a little scared as he stared again at the swirling dust.

****

Johnny only continued to get weaker while Banshee grew stronger. She refused to speak about what she was or wasn’t, only screamed during the night about what her purpose could have been. Edgar mentioned off-hand one morning that he worried that Banshee would start living up to her name. Johnny refused to sleep for the next two days, despite how clearly exhausted he was. Edgar did everything he could to convince Johnny that Banshee would not kill him in his sleep, but only his body shutting down sometime in the afternoon on the third day finally got him to get what he desperately needed.

Banshee thought it was funny.

In reality, Edgar could only guess as to why Banshee and Johnny were insisting on living with each other when they shared this clearly antagonistic relationship. Edgar hoped that it wasn’t some sort of fucked up suicide on Johnny’s part, and that it wasn’t willing murder on Banshee’s.

When Johnny began to get sick from the horrible treatment his body was receiving, Edgar had to try more than sleeping pills or any other medication he could convince Johnny to take. Johnny had been inside so long that Edgar thought a positive stress-free outing would help his condition. He had a feeling it would be stupid, but he felt just as strongly that he had to try.

“Nny, how would you feel about a trip outside?”

“Like shit.”

“Really, come on. I think it would do you some good. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Why don’t _you_ go, and then come back and tell me about it?”

“Johnny, please. Even you have to notice you’re not doing well. Let me do something for you.”

“Fine,” Johnny said, pulling himself to his feet. “Where are we going?”

Edgar held out his arms to offer Johnny a brace, which Johnny tried to knock out of the way, but crashed into instead. Johnny's pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it had been accidental, so Edgar made no mention of it.

In the time that it had taken Edgar to convince Johnny to leave the house, get him to put some boots on, and have him stable enough to walk around without bitching, it had started to rain. Johnny was determined to ignore it, despite repeated offers from Edgar to fetch the umbrella. The rain wasn’t too bad when they left, and Edgar thought maybe it would clear Johnny’s head.

“Where are we going?” Johnny asked, attempting to lead the way to nowhere himself.

“Not far, just hang on, okay?”

“I don’t want to see Devi.”

“We’re not going to see Devi.”

When they turned a corner, Johnny knew exactly where they were headed.

“The school?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

Edgar didn’t answer but led Johnny to the doors near the choir room, where Johnny sat on a nearby bench while Edgar worked the lock. When both sets of doors were open, Edgar beckoned Johnny inside. Johnny followed, but seemed reluctant. Edgar took his hand and led him down the long hallway, where Johnny had dragged a confused Edgar many times before. They almost missed the small offshoot of the main hallway and turned into a closet before Edgar found the right spot. While he fussed with the lock, Edgar heard Johnny breathing hard, as though they’d sprinted rathered than casually strolled all the way from Edgar’s house.

The lock snapped and Edgar pushed the doors open, gesturing for Johnny to go through first. Johnny obliged silently, though he didn’t look enthusiastic about the stairs.

“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better,” he griped as he stomped up the small flights to the bridge.

“You’ll feel better when we’re out there.”

One more lock, the trickiest one in the school, and Edgar finally felt the wind from the roof again. It had been a long time before he felt the air that only blew above the school, and he’d been there trying to cure Johnny of something the last time as well.

Johnny let out a long, relieved sigh as he passed through the doors and leaned on the ledge of the roof, grateful for a chance to rest. He blinked down at Pepito’s house, which was still lit up brightly, and inhaleded deeply.

“The air up here,” he said.

“What about it?”

“Nothing else, just the air. You were terrified of being up here when I met you.”

Edgar leaned over the edge, just slightly. “It wasn’t up here I was so scared of, it was suddenly being off of up here and very much down there.”

Johnny laughed, though the sound struggled to escape him. “You were afraid of _me_ suddenly being off of up here.”

“I’m always afraid of bad things happening to you. It’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s a sad life to be living, with my track record.”

“You’ll get better.”

Johnny shook his head. “Not unless you kill Banshee or something.”

“There will be something else,” Edgar insisted.

“No, I don’t think so. But it’s okay." Johnny smiled.  "I was planning to head out early anyway, remember?”

Edgar shivered, and though he convinced himself it was from the wind, he knew better. “I told you,” he said. “I’m not okay with something ending your life for you.”

Johnny shrugged. “Do whatever you want.”

“What’s wrong with you? You once fought out of Hell because it wasn’t convenient for you. Why are you so content to go now?”

“Because you would never kill Banshee or Tess for me, and I can’t do it myself without becoming something horrific, and that’s the only way I see out of this.”

“No, I know there’s something else we can do. We just have to find it. Get the monster out of Tess and-”

“And _what_ , Edgar?! Call in the Ghostbusters? Have Banshee exorcise her? Have Pepito or Dib do it?” He wheezed and stooped against the ledge, his chest heaving.

“We’ll think of something,” Edgar said gently. He offered his hands in case Johnny needed some kind of support.

“We’ll think of what?!” Johnny gasped, hand grasping at his chest. “You remember the same things I do. You were in my head for a while, or something like it. You know what it felt like, you know what it did, and fuck, it chased you once. You think we can just take it out of Tess and then frolic around with bunnies and Freezies and world is fine? Really? What are you going to do with it, Edgar? Keep it in a fishbowl?”

“Maybe we can put it in someone else.”

“That is the general idea,” Tess’ voice cooed from near the locked door.

Johnny took a sharp breath and slid to his knees without even seeing Tess. His breathing quickened and he muttered things that Edgar couldn’t understand. Edgar dropped to his knees and tried to cover Johnny’s ears, though he wasn’t sure what that was going to accomplish.

“Tess, stop it!” he yelled. “Stay back!”

“It’s not going to keep being Tess,” Johnny moaned. He was trying to burrow into the roof to escape whatever was happening in his head. The rain had provided puddles that Johnny attempted to drown himself in while Edgar held onto him and continued to yell at Tess.

“Get away, Tess! We'll talk somewhere else! You’re hurting him!”

“No, wait, it’s okay!” Banshee, half-dressed and sporting a wild expression, emerged from somewhere in the rain. She sounded out of breath from scaling the stairs to the roof, but she was brimming with energy. She’d apparently followed them, though Edgar wished she’d chosen some other time to come to the rescue. “I can do this!”

Tess seemed as shocked to see her as Edgar, and Johnny flinched at the sound of her voice.

“Banshee, no!” Edgar yelled. “Just get away from her, run! Go and get Pepito or Jimmy and Devi or something!”

“No, no!” Banshee said happily, almost bouncing in place. “I can do this!”

Tess swayed between approaching Johnny and tackling Banshee. As she took a few steps, her skin began to fade to a sort of gray. Edgar did his best to shake Johnny into staying focused and not drowning himself. Wet pieces of gravel poked at Edgar’s knees and Johnny was covered in dirt and small cuts from trying to bury his face in the concrete ledge.

“Nny, come on. We have to get out of here, you have to get up!”

Edgar tried to haul Johnny to his feet by his armpits, but didn’t make it very far from Tess before the weight of Johnny’s mostly limp body dragged them both back down to their knees. Tess walked an odd line, as though she was magnetized to Banshee while still determined to reach Johnny. Just as Edgar was going to yell for Banshee to run away from Johnny in an attempt to slow Tess down, Banshee jumped in between them. Tess’ approach sped up and she moaned something that sounded like, “I’ll be heading back soon,” in a voice that was not completely her own.

“Banshee, no!” Edgar flailed his arm away from himself and Johnny. “Go the other way!”

“It’s okay! I know what I’m doing!”

Tess stared at Banshee quizzically for a moment and then approached her, reaching outward. Tess began to glow gently, an effect magnified by the rain. Banshee’s half-wet hair was sticking to her face and Edgar could feel water running down the back of his neck.

“Well come on then!” Banshee shouted, throwing her arms into the air. “I want to see the red star!”

Banshee’s words called one hundred songs into Edgar’s mind. A form that he had seen once on television, and many times in the nightmares he was sure he’d borrowed from Johnny, rose from Tess’ shoulders. It had no head, no top, no bottom and no front. It made a deafening noise, but only inside Edgar’s skull. For a momentor two, he was paralyzed, and then he felt Johnny’s grip on his arm lessen.

The song wasn’t Tess’, or even Banshee’s, but it was there. Banshee seemed to have called it up to be her accompaniment for the evening.

“ _Come along, come along with me_

_Stay out stay clear but stay close_

_Friends, foes, God only knows_

_Let’s be the thorn on the rose_

_Time flies, make a statement, strike a pose_

_Come along now, come along with me_

_Come along now, come along and you’ll see_

_What it’s like to be free”_

Calling upon your own soundtrack really was a Johnny thing to do, after all, and it made some sort of sick sense.

In a move that he knew was stupid the moment it happened, Edgar threw a piece of gravel at the thing crawling out of Tess. It passed through the monster and flew on to put a nick in one of the school’s windows. Banshee turned to stare at him, baffled. The song playing changed sharply, briefly singing of a something Banshee had mentioned before.

“ _..red star…”_

“What the hell are you doing?” Banshee asked angrily.

“She’s- well look at her!”

“I know, it’s fine. Just wait.”

The song switched back, but still flitting among the casual call to be followed were soft whispers of the red star.

“ _Come along now, come along with me_

… _red star…_

_Come along now, come along and you’ll see…_

… _it’s my red star…”_

Tess moved in short jerks or in fluid shuffles, but never walked. She was slow, but advancing, and the thing looming over her struggled to take some kind of shape. Banshee was not running, or even moving away. She simply stood between Tess and Edgar, arms open. Edgar looked at Johnny in his lap, and up at Banshee and decided he had to do something. Johnny tried to speak as Edgar picked him up. Edgar shook him without thinking and shouted for Johnny to repeat himself.

“She can take it out,” Johnny said. The rain had plastered his chopped up hair to his forehead and trails of water were running into his eyes.

“Banshee can-? Okay, hang on.” Edgar let go of Johnny despite protest and ran across the roof. Without much thought at all, he flung himself into Tess, and ran them both into the gravel. She glowed brilliantly on the moment of impact. Tess and Banshee called his name at the same moment, though Banshee tacked on ‘You idiot!’ while Tess sounded as though she hadn’t seen him there until now.

“What are you doing?” Tess asked. The voice that came out of her was the same voice that had spoken to Edgar the first time at the library – definitely actually Tess. He didn’t answer, but turned to Banshee instead.

“Can you do this?”

“Yes! Yes, I can do this! I was doing fine on my own!”

“What are you going to do with it?”

Tess gripped Edgar’s arm in terror and shook him. “Do with what? Edgar? Do with what?”

“I’m going to get rid of it!” Banshee proclaimed.

“ _it’s my red star”_

Edgar caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Johnny sitting up behind Banshee. The thing in Tess noticed too; it surged from her and stretched toward Johnny, whipping past Edgar’s face. He could feel it that it existed but that it was also nothing, and it thickened and electrified the air around it. It was far larger than a person – already more of it had grown from Tess than she should have been able to carry and yet it was still attached to her, still reaching out as though vital parts of it were still trapped inside her. Edgar stared at it, transfixed as it towered over them and began to spread, though it remained completely intangible. Banshee’s personal soundtrack surged with her voice.

‘ _Built a castle for yourself_

“Edgar, let go!” Banshee called. “I’ve got it! Just go watch Johnny for a minute!”

_  
You left me drowning’_

Edgar pushed himself up onto his palms and tried to roll away from Tess, who was still clawing desperately at his arm. Edgar yanked at her wrists himself, yelling for her to let go. He tried to stand and partly dragged her along the gravel. Suddenly, her grip vanished and Edgar staggered to one side. When he was out of range of Tess’ grasp, he turned to see that Johnny had grabbed Tess’ wrists and pegged them against the ground, even with full use of only one arm. The thing trying to free itself from Tess pawed desperately at Johnny, and although it was gigantic and should have been more than capable, it still couldn’t reach him.

‘ _Like a hunter in the night  
I was your prey’_

“Are you okay?” Edgar asked, climbing over the flailing Tess.

“Not now,” Johnny said, releasing his hold on Tess. “We just need to get back. She’s gonna blow.”

“What, seriously?”

Johnny dragged Edgar back, though only by force of desire; he was in no way strong enough to haul Edgar anywhere and with only one good arm, he was not very persuasive. Johnny’s rough breathing and troubled stance returned when he and Edgar had put enough distance between themselves and Tess. Johnny muttered something to himself about how Tess made him feel, but Edgar couldn’t get him to repeat it.

‘ _And your heart is cold and dark_  
You left me bleeding  
Your plague was meant to kill’

“Okay!” Banshee cheered. “Now let’s go! I want to see the red star!”

‘ _ **I'm still here’**_

There was a cracking sound and the thing from the wall flowed visibly from Tess; her posture changed, her skin tone brightened and she seemed to be breathing out for the first time in ages. The force of the monster leaving reached out and Edgar felt it hit him somewhere on the inside of the back of his head. Johnny apparently felt it too and heavily abused the bracing shoulder Edgar had offered. Banshee glowed with the joy that she’d released the creature, and seemed to be attempting to channel it. Somewhere high in the air, pieces of it were solid. No parts of it were interested in Johnny any longer, with every one of its horrible pieces curling toward Banshee from all angles. With a few strands of it still stuck inside Tess, it seemed to have difficulty reaching its new target. Edgar screamed at Banshee repeatedly, begging her to stop what she was doing, to throw the monster into the sky and let it hit the wind, but Banshee was practically singing and ignored every word. Johnny was nearly delirious in Edgar’s arms and felt lighter than he really should have been.

“It’s okay!” Banshee shouted excitedly. “I know what I’m doing! We’re going to be fine!”

‘ _I'm the amazon_  
That you've brought out in me  
Fighting for my destiny’

Tess’ knees hit the ground a few feet away and Banshee conducted the essence of the wall monster toward herself. It reached for her as happily as it had reached for Johnny, only now had no trouble getting to her at all.

‘ _So go and watch your’_

“Banshee, this is ridiculous! You know what it did to her!”

“It’s okay!” Banshee shouted back, still delighted. “I’m from Heaven!”

‘ _ **kingdom burning down’**_

The wave of shape and churning existence approached Banshee’s face, and she tilted her head back. She gave it no resistance and in fact seemed to be welcoming it by breathing it in. The long green strip of hair on her head whipped around her face, but she showed no signs of being anything but serene. It reached around her and arched her back, helping itself to her offer of her own head. Edgar thought she was almost being held off the ground by the thing. Still, even with it shaping her to be more easily taken over, Banshee smiled and hummed to herself.

‘ _And there's no one here to save you  
Cause you're all alone’_

Edgar shook Johnny, pushed him off of his shoulder and eased him to the ground. With Johnny practically unconscious, Edgar reasoned, there was little he was going to be useful for.

“Edgar, no! Stay with Nny!” Banshee yelled, suddenly worried.

‘ _wild horses running free_  
And don't you try to find me  
Watch your kingdom burn’

“He’s not being eaten! You are!”

When he grabbed her hand, the thing holding her whisked away to leave Banshee grounded and bent back into a natural posture. Edgar thought, for one brief stupid moment, that  it had been dispelled by the clichéd powers of love.

Then he saw it pick up Johnny.

‘ _See it burning down!’_

“What did you do?! I told you to stay with him!” Banshee shrieked. “Now look!”

“Don’t worry,” Johnny said suddenly. His voice was more stable than it had been in months. “I know this.”

‘ _See it burning down!’_

The moment when it all flowed into him, he looked like Tess had – the same posture, the same paler skin, the same odd expression – and then it vanished. Several seconds passed with nothing but the sound of the rain as Johnny stood staring at them, supporting his own weight with no trouble at all.

Edgar stared, unsure of how to react.

“Is it… gone?” he asked.

“Feels nice to have my knees back again,” Johnny answered cheerily.

Edgar felt a weight in his stomach lift and he thought he’d start to dance or something equally stupid. Before he could celebrate with Banshee, however, she began screaming into his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He tried to hug her but she only continued to scream.

“What do I _do_ now?!” she wailed. “I was the replacement! It should have taken me instead of Johnny!”

“He’ll be fine, look at him – everything’s fine.”

“No it isn’t! It’s still in there! It’ll come after him! Edgar, I’m from upstairs, from Heaven! I had a chance to neutralize it! Johnny used to be in charge of Hell! It’ll take him over!”

Edgar felt panic rise in his chest again.

“Can you take it out of him like you did to Tess?” His voice was shaking.

Banshee shook her head.

“No. It _wants_ to be in him. That’s why it was going to take me instead, that's why it came out at all. I’m Johnny’s replacement, just, just without the connection to Hell… It would have vanished in me! It had no idea!”

Johnny examined his hands while Banshee shrieked against Edgar.

“I feel fine,” Johnny said, though he was talking to himself.

“You _look_ okay,” Edgar said slowly.

“I am.”

“He’s not,” Banshee sniffled into Edgar’s shirt.

“I’m sure it’ll-” Edgar began.

Banshee slammed her fists violently against Edgar's chest. “NO! He has to ruin everything! It’s always about him! Even when he’s me!” She glared at Johnny, and nearly spit on Edgar as she lashed out. “You ruin _everything_!”

Johnny smiled indulgently, and Banshee buried her head in Edgar’s shirt.

Tess groaned against the pavement, and Edgar tried to detach himself from Banshee to help Tess off of the ground. Instead, Johnny strode across the roof and stood next to Tess. He nudged her with the toe of his boot.

“Hey,” he said, paying specific attention to shaking her shoulder.

She wearily picked up her head, and took a sharp breath when she saw Johnny standing over her.

“Get up,” Johnny said.

“What’s going on? What happened to it?” Tess remained on the ground, glaning around wildly with Johnny’s boot still pressing on her shoulder.

“It’s gone,” Edgar answered quickly. He did his best to steer Banshee over to Tess rather than try to separate her from his arm.

Tess sat up and braced herself with her arms behind her. “That’s it? It’s just gone?”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Johnny said.

Banshee moaned something in response, but Edgar did his best to drown it out. Johnny apparently followed suit.

“Now get up,” he ordered, shaking his hand at her.

Tess gingerly accepted Johnny’s offered help and rose to her feet. Edgar flinched when their hands touched, sure that one of them would melt inside of their own skull, but neither of the two seemed bothered at all.

“Don’t I hurt you anymore?” Tess asked, her eyes lingering on Johnny’s hand.

Johnny shook his head, and even smiled a bit. “I think all this going crazy I’ve been doing has just been getting me used to it. I’m fine.”

Tess stood and looked at Edgar, her eyes wide.

“Edgar, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, no, I really made things awful for you… I never meant it to get this bad. I just wanted-”

“You’ve said. It’s fine.”

“Edgar, I-”

“I know. We can talk about it later.”

Banshee continued to cry into Edgar’s sleeve, covering it in her smearing make-up.

“What now?” she asked through her sobs. “What do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” Edgar answered flatly. “Let’s just get home.”

“You can’t take that thing home!” Banshee cried, pointing desperately at Johnny.

“That’s not a thing, it’s Johnny.”

“It’s a _thing_! " She rammed her forehead into his shoulder every few syllables. "There’s a _thing_ in his head, and gods, it’s going to- he’ll kill you, Edgar!”

“I think he was going to do that anyway,” Edgar said quietly.

Banshee trembled beside him. Her hands grasped at nothing and her expression was contorted in horror.

“Oh god, what do I do?” she moaned. “I was supposed to do this, I was the replacement, I could have saved him and I didn’t and now I’m just here!”

Edgar reached out to touch her, to try to calm her, but she smacked his hand away. She looked at him, pleading, her lip quivering and dripping with drops of rain.

“ _I’m still here_ ,” she whispered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titiyo - Come Along  
> Vanilla Ninja - Kingdom Burning Down
> 
> Kingdom Burning Down is so much Banshee. I've been waiting to use it since the moment I heard it.


	13. Mojot Svet

 

He never would have exprected that Tess could stand in the same room with him without something breaking.

He never thought he’d see Banshee acting her true age and crying constantly.

 

He really did think he’d be able to destroy Tess. Instead, he was watching Edgar give her tea and a few bandages. 

Tess glanced nervously at Johnny every few seconds. She seemed just as wary of him as he had previously been of her. 

“Nny, take this.” Edgar was standing in front of him, offering a steaming mug. God, they were drinking so much tea lately. How fucking Victorian. Johnny took the mug and continued his examination of Tess’ movements. He heard Banshee crying softly from the staircase. From the jingle of bracelets that accompanied the sniffling, he suspected she was shaking.

Tess took several jittery sips of her tea, apparently afraid of everything and everyone in the house but Banshee... who was not offering any comfort. 

“What happened to it?” Tess asked, looking up at Edgar.

“Apparently,” Edgar sighed, “it’s in Nny now.”

Tess looked alarmed and Banshee sobbed a little harder from behind the wall.

“Is he…” Tess turned slowly to look at Johnny. “Are … _you_ okay?”

Johnny shrugged. “I feel better than I have since you first showed up.”

“I just… It wasn’t fair. You guys didn’t even see me, and I fucking stopped existing in your house! You killed Edgar and everyone else and they love you! You effectively spared me and _look at this!_ ”

Johnny flinched when the images to match Tess’ words flashed in his head. Tess still reminded him so much of dying. She made him want to stay inside for the rest of his life and never again risk meeting someone who was unhappy that he hadn’t quite gotten around to killing them. He felt things when he looked at Tess that he didn’t like. He had feelings that were probably good and healthy and normal, but he hated those as much as he hated the whispers in his head telling him that he should bring serious injury to everyone in the immediate vicinity.

“It’s not my fault that you’re not the same brand of invisible as I am.”

Tess looked lost and frustrated and like she might smash the mug in her hands. “It’s not your fault that I’m even _here?_ That they reset everyone who had any kind of fucked up contact with you?”

“I didn’t ask them to do it,” Johnny said, taking a sip of tea. Too hot. Always too hot.

“Hell,” Edgar said, still standing between them, “ _I_ didn’t even ask them to do that.”

Johnny felt Tess' conflict and her betrayal and her anger and almost found himself reflecting the feelings back at her. Banshee sniffed from the stairs and Tess softened immediately. 

“Is she okay?” she asked Edgar. 

“She thinks something bad is going to happen with the thing that was in you being in Johnny instead. You’re here to tell me what it’s going to do to him.”

Tess shook her head, but kept her gaze fixed in Banshee’s direction. “I can’t say.”

“Don’t give me that shit again,” Edgar threatened.

Tess flailed an arm defensively. “No, no, I don’t mean that I won’t or even that I can’t, just that I don’t know. When it had me, it wanted him so badly that _why_ didn’t really matter to me. I wanted to get back at him for what he’d done to me and to get to you. _It_ wanted to get to him with you out of the way. So it seemed to work out as a relationship.”

“That is incredibly fucked up,” Johnny said.

“Says lord of the dead over there,” Tess shot back. 

“Easy, easy, both of you.” Edgar had been standing all this time ...in case things came to blows or something, Johnny thought. Sweet and angry man still feeling protective of Johnny and Tess but unsure of who was more dangerous. Edgar turned to Tess and tried a simple diplomatic approach. “Where did you find it? When did you find it?”

“I found it when I followed you,” Tess admitted, looking down into her tea and swirling the cup gently. “I could see it, but it was like no one else could. I knew what it was as soon as I saw it, but I was terrified that maybe it was the only thing on the same plane of visible as I was, so I ran from it just like you guys did.”

“When did you stop being you?” Edgar was putting on his 'gentle but firm' voice. He used it sometimes when Johnny fell asleep in places Edgar disapproved of.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I was me when I scared Johnny at that concert, and I’m pretty sure I was me when we met at the library. But after that, I just don’t know. It felt so gradual I didn’t notice until it started taking over… I sort of recommend getting rid of it.”

“I’ve got it under control,” Johnny said. He took a casual sip of his tea and noted that there was not enough sugar. Fuck this tea.

Tess protested immediately. “No, you don’t understand. It’ll make you think that,but-”

“I’ve _got it_.”

“I-okay.”

Banshee wailed again from the stairs and Tess gripped her tea tightly.

“Should we say something to her?”

“She’ll be alright for now,” Edgar said. He attempted to shift his stance to block Banshee and the stairs from view. “I’m still waiting to hear more about this thing that’s in Johnny.”

“I’ve already told you what I know, really.”

Edgar nodded, but Johnny felt that he wasn’t buying it and laughed a soft puff of air into his mug. 

“Do you have somewhere to stay, Tess?” Edgar asked suddenly.

“I’m… not sure.”

“I’m going to call Devi and Jimmy and see if one of them wants to take you for a while. Call me paranoid but even if I don’t want you in my house, I also don’t want you disappearing.”

Tess nodded sadly and continued sipping her tea as Edgar stepped into the next room.

“How do you feel?” Johnny asked. It wasn’t completely out of concern for Tess, but it wasn’t entirely selfish either.

“Terrified,” she answered. “And maybe tired. I feel like I’ve been asleep for weeks.”

Johnny scoffed and reclined in his seat. “ _You?_ Don’t make me laugh. I _have_ been sleeping for weeks.”

“That’s not my fault.” Tess watched him intently as he ran his finger over the rim of his mug.

“Actually, I think it is. What do you know about Banshee?”

“Nothing? She’s a girl who lives here who grows too much?” Tess sounded genuinely confused.

“She’s grown like that every time you’ve done something to my head,” Johnny said, poking his temple.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything to her, I don’t know why it did that.”

“Did you know she was supposed to be me?”

Tess blinked rapidly and leaned closer to Johnny. “She _what_?”

Edgar returned then, and Johnny felt something twinge as he passed Banshee.

“Devi and Tenna can take you,” he said. “Jimmy’s apparently sort of afraid of the whole thing and I’d like to leave his place open for Banshee if she needs it anyway.”

“Thanks, I think,” Tess replied.

“Did you know?” Johnny continued pressing as though Edgar hadn‘t been there at all.

“Uh, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nny, leave it. We’ll talk to her tomorrow. I think we’ve all had enough of everything today.” 

Edgar led Tess to the door, made Johnny promise that he wouldn’t kill Banshee or vice versa and then set off to walk Tess to Devi’s. 

The house grew quiet but for the sounds of Banshee’s soft cries and the blood in Johnny’s veins. He couldn’t move, could hardly blink, could not stop thinking. The rush of blood and the wet sobs combined together in his head to form overwhelming and disgusting splashes of sound. 

“Banshee,” he growled with some difficulty, “stop it.”

“Fff-fuck you, Nny!” Banshee sniffled. 

“Really, stop it.”

“I’m u-upset! Leaff me alonge!”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not upset about _you_ , you prick.”

“I love you too.”

She sniffed and made a few more gasping sounds before Johnny heard her stand and enter the room properly. She stood shakily at the far end of the coffee table. It was the first time she’d been on her feet alone since she’d collapsed hysterically against Edgar on the school roof.

“You know what I’m upset about?” 

“Do tell.”

“I had something to _do,_ Nny.” Her voice still thick with restrained tears and the skin around her her eyes was puffy, red and shiny. “I was made for something and I was going to do it.”

“Gee, where have I heard that before?” Johnny rolled his eyes. 

Banshee took several angry stomps forward, so she was hovering just at the end of the table closest to Johnny. “And you _took it from me_! Now what do I do? Now I’m an extra! I would have been better off if you had just _STAYED DEAD!_ ”

“You had to be big enough to take that thing in. That’s why you were growing.” Johnny set his mug aside. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t been here, you still would have needed to get bigger. The memories in the closet and all the stuff that got sucked out of me and Tess when she made me crazy - that’s what made you bigger. If I’d been dead…”

“Everything you are would have been added to the closet,” Banshee said quickly. She clamped her hand over her mouth almost immediately, her eyes wide and threatening tears.

Johnny lowered his head and glared accusingly, his ability to move suddenly quite functional again. “You _knew_.”

“No! No, I didn’t know anything! It just came back! Just now!”

“You’re lying.” He rose from the chair and took a step toward her.

“No!” Banshee backed away from Johnny, panicked. 

“What’s in the closet now?”

“The thing that was in Tess,” Banshee said through a new bout of tears. Johnny felt terror in her, though the fear was not of him, or even of the thing in the closet, but that she knew about it.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Banshee cried. Her trembling hands were still held over her mouth. 

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

Johnny’s song grew angry and loud and was then interrupted with a disaster of notes that nearly knocked him backwards. There were words and blaring sounds that didn’t fit scattered throughout his song and they most definitely didn’t belong there.

“What are you doing to it?!” Johnny yelled.

Banshee switched from fear to lashing out in a second. “What are you talking about?! You’re always fucking _screaming_! You’re fucking _insane_ , Nny!”

“My song! You’re putting words in it again!”

“No I’m not!”

“Is it yours? Can you hear that?”

Banshee was shaking, her face wet and smeared with eye make-up. There had been a white star on her cheek, a red bindi on her forehead and black circles around her eyes, but now she resembled a drowned homeless clown. 

“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered shakily. 

“Stop that.” Johnny touched her shoulder to quiet her and make sure she was real. “I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down and listen.”

“I hate you,” Banshee answered, her voice trembling.

“That’s great, now shut up and listen.”

“Nny, I don’t hear anything, I’m going up-”

“Then tell me what you were going to do. On the roof. How did you know?”

Banshee tried to even out her breathing, though Johnny could still feel how anxious she was. “I… just knew. You and Edgar left, and I thought I could feel it in my _bones_ that you’d find Tess. That I would need to be there.”

“To do what?”

“To get the moose out of her.”

“The what?”

“The thing, the – fuck, did I say moose? You know, the Wall Thing.”

“‘ _Moose_ ’? Where the fuck did that come from?”

“That’s just what I call it when … yeah. I don’t know. Um.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I just had to get it out.”

Johnny slowly sank into the couch and Banshee did the same, easing the tension between them in waves. 

“How did you know how to do it?” he asked.

“It just happened.” She tucked a piece of tangled hair behind her ear and poked at the earrings that had survived the encounter. “I know it sounds like bullshit, but it just came to me.”

“You knew where we’d be going?”

“Edgar mentioned it to me before he took you.” Banshee's eyes flicked between Johnny the floor. She gave him a strained grin. “He was really scared you were going to wither away in here.”

Johnny felt a spark of a connection, though whether it was between himself and Banshee or between himself and Edgar he didn’t know. 

“So what did you do? Why did you want the wall monster?”

“Because that was what they sent me for.”

“They sent you to fix something that hadn’t even happened yet?”

Banshee looked at Johnny, and her eyes pleaded with him. Edgar’s green eyes behind glasses and asking for a favor, but attached to some of Johnny’s features. Creepy.

“It happened before you died,” Banshee said quietly. “Tess was its eyes long before she even knew it existed. Connected to it and you because of how her universe ended.”

“And you were just magically granted this knowledge too?”

“No. The red star told me.”

Johnny heard the door open, and he and Banshee turned to watch Edgar close it behind him. Edgar waved awkwardly when he saw he was being stared at. “Tess is at Devi’s,” he said. 

“Good,” Banshee said.

Johnny listened as Edgar asked Banshee how she felt, and if she needed to hide with Jimmy, and they talked for far too long about dumb shit that was not of any importance at all and was just the proper scripted shit that people say when they’re ignoring elephants in the room or maybe sexual tension. Johnny laughed and meant to launch into a discussion of how pointless these little rituals were, but he managed just “Banshee” instead.

“Please not now,” she said weakly. 

For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, Johnny obeyed.

 

****

 

“It was good to see you walking around normally again.” Edgar was putting on his best reassuring smile despite being worried out of his mind. Johnny admired his effort and suspected it was much better than what he’d be able to manage himself.

“Yeah.”

“This all seems to have worked out pretty well. No one died this time, and we didn’t even have to involve Pepito.”

“Yeah.”

“Nny.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, come on.” Edgar shook Johnny’s shoulder gently, still trying to smile.

Johnny shook his head and the pattern on the blanket over his legs stopped pulsing and trying to reach for him. “Sorry, I was…” Not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“With Banshee?”

“She’s f-” No. “She told me that her life would have been easier if I’d died.”

“She’s just angry, I’m sure she’ll-”

“I don’t care. She can say whatever she wants.”

“Oh.”

“She says she knows about Tess because a red star told her things.”

Edgar bit his lip.

“She also said… that the thing we took out of Tess isn’t in me.”

“Then wh-”

“The closet.”

Johnny felt Edgar shudder as he cautiously eyed the handle on the closet door.

“It’s… just sitting in there?” Edgar had lowered his voice, as though hoping Banshee’s ‘Moose’ wouldn’t hear him.

“It’s what she said.”

“You’re not thinking of…”

“No.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“I don’t think he has anything to do with it, but sure.”

“Can we brick it up or something?” Edgar asked. “I’m really … not comfortable with thinking it’s just lurking in there.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnny didn’t answer.

****

Banshee was a wreck. She screamed half the time she was awake, and cried the other half. She tried to escape outside a few times, but always returned home crying that people were following her. She had apparently stopped growing in spurts, either because it had been turned off or because Johnny had a brand new Tess filter. She spent all night wailing about losing everything, and when Edgar tried to console her, she practically attacked him.

In the midst of one particular night of Edgar trying to be comforting from the foot of her bed, she picked her head up from her pillow to try to explain. “You were born to make Nny happy, weren’t you?”

“Not in so many words, but I suppose something like that.”

“When he died, how did you feel?”

“I was… devastated. But, Banshee, I lost a person, not-”

“Your whole purpose was gone! Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it like that. You had to. What am I supposed to do now? I was supposed to replace Nny and I didn’t even get to do the thing I was made to do.”

Edgar sat on the bed next to her. “What were you made to do?”

“To get that thing out of Tess and get it into me.”

“Why into you?”

“I told you already: I was made in ' _Heaven_ '.” She put a sarcastic emphasis on the word. “You were there once, right? There was nothing in me at all… The white closet and everything, I was just Johnny-like bait… I was going to neutralize it. Nothing to feed on, so it would just… stop.”

“And when you did that, what were you going to do after that?”

“Just be.”

“Why can’t you do that now?”

Banshee glared at him. “Were you going to _just be_ when he died? _Were you?_ ”

“Sorry. I get it. Let me know if I can help somehow.”

He stood up to leave, closed the door behind him and was met outside Banshee’s room by Johnny staring at him from the top step of the staircase.

“You think she’ll try to kill herself?” Johnny asked, nodding toward Banshee’s door. “That’d be a pretty me and you thing to do.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“That’s what she meant, you know.”

“Stop. I’m trying to help her.”

“Do we need to get her to scream in front of some people again?”

“Call me crazy, but I can’t help but question the motives behind any suggestion you make about her.”

Johnny shrugged. Edgar watched him walk down the staircase scratching at his cast.

****

When Edgar walked into the bedroom hours later, Johnny had his forehead pressed against the closet.

“Nny, what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About the thing in there?”

“Yes.” Johnny picked his head up, and just blankly looked at Edgar. 

“I really don’t want to test the theory of it being in there. You’d end up like what you were before and I … can’t be okay with that.”

“I’m not going to test anything. I’m just going to take a chance.”

“On?”

“You said you’d come with me, right?”

All the air left Edgar’s lungs and he thought his heart might give out. Johnny's face betrayed no hint that he noticed Edgar's distress. He may as well have asked if Edgar was coming with him to pick up groceries.

“Um-”

“Banshee was supposed to neutralize it somehow, by being all special and from Heaven and shit. If it’s in the closet because the closet is holding what’s in our heads… If I die, I take it with me.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit drastic?”

“But plausible.”

“If we’re both gone…” Edgar said slowly. 

“Banshee, right?” Johnny had a hint of laughter in his voice. “I figured.”

“We can’t just leave her here alone. What would happen to her?”

“She’d take over the world like a proper me-clone.”

“But not like this!” Edgar protested. “She’s so devastated about this purpose that she doesn’t think she has anymore! With no one here, she’d … I don’t know. Nothing good.”

“And again, I suggest we have her scream for an audience again.”

“You’re really serious about this.”

“So are you.”

“I-”

“It’s your turn, Edgar.”

“Nny, I-”

“Don’t. I know.”

****

He’d been sitting there next to her for what felt like hours.

“What do you want to sing?”

“Go away, Nny.”

“Nothing?”

“Go _away_ , Nny.”

“You come find me when you have an answer.”

Just like that, Johnny had disappeared into the other room and Banshee longed to break his leg to match his arm. Instead, she was going to see Tess. Banshee had some ideas, and she had some things she wanted to do and Tess was rooted in both of them.

Edgar had had no objections to her leaving and he wouldn’t have been able to stop her anyway. He didn’t know where she was going, but he would probably guess. The walk to Devi’s infuriated her and excited her and got into her every nerve... but at least it was quick. The turn off to the school tempted her, but she resisted and kept toward the Homicides' van that she could just see poking out from behind Devi's building down the street. She threw a rock at Jimmy's trailer as she passed by it, but missed and decided to spare him a broken window by not trying again. 

Banshee called to Devi when she arrived at her door, not so much knocking as beating her fists against the door. 

Devi looked surprised to see Banshee standing there when she answered. “What are you doing?”

“I came to talk to Tess.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“Does it matter? Does she have a bomb or something?”

Tess was sitting on the couch with Tenna as they watched television. She jumped when she saw Banshee but calmed considerably when she realized Banshee was alone.

“I’m… glad to see you’re okay,” Tess said slowly.

“I don’t know how okay I am, but thanks.”

“If they sent you to ask what I know about you, there’s nothing.”

“They didn’t. They probably don’t want me to talk to you.” 

Banshee sat next to Tess on the couch and Tenna said something loudly to herself about people finding better places to have heart-to-heart conversations.

“If they didn’t send you here, then what…?”

“Do you know when that monster first found you?” Banshee asked.

Tess shook her head. “It’s still pretty blurry, I can’t be sure.”

“How long have you been invisible?”

“My whole life, until Johnny saw me.”

“And how long is that?”

Tess jumped as though something had stabbed her in the back and stared back at Banshee, her eyes empty of everything.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“How much older are you than me?”

“I don’t know how old you are!”

“Do you think it’s possible that you started existing at the same time as that monster?”

“No! I watched them, all of them, grow up the same way I did! I was there!”

“Are you sure?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tess demanded. “Why are you even asking me this?”

“Can you sing?” Banshee asked.

“What does-?”

“Can you do anything? Play something? Dance?”

“I don’t think so…”

“You have to do something! You have to!”

“No, I don’t!” Tess shouted. 

“Hey!” Tenna yelled. “You want to freak out, do it in the other room. I’m watching this.”

“Sorry,” Banshee said. “I’ll get going soon. I just need to… Tess, what were you doing all that time?”

“Just trying to even the score a little.”

“I broke his arm.”

“Yeah… I saw that. I think I was aiming a little higher than that, but uh, good job?”

Banshee leaned close, excited. “I mean _you_ don’t have to! He’s breakable, but Edgar really likes him – he loves Johnny! It’s completely fucked up, but Johnny loves him too, ask these guys!” She gestured dramatically to Devi and Tenna, even though Tenna was glaring. “And since I… well, since…” This was coming out wrong. Hell, it was hardly coming out at all. 

Tess shook her head, clearly trying to understand. “I know Edgar likes him, that’s what I was trying to stop. I still don‘t understand, Banshee.”

“But Johnny likes him back and – fuck.” Banshee threw up her hands and then reached over and grabbed one of Tess’. “The red star.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re the red one. You’ve gotta do something with us.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the red star! You’re what I was trying to get to under all that monster! You’re-!”

“Ooooookay, kiddo.” Devi’s hands settled on Banshee’s shoulders, startling her. “I think we should get you home. You’re getting a little more psycho than I generally allow my visitors to be.”

“Devi, no, I know what I’m doing! I’ve seen them together, Tess, not like you have! Edgar would trade me in to the pound to be with Nny! You’ve gotta play with us!”

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Banshee smacked Devi’s hands away. “NO! I’m not a little kid! Why can Johnny say whatever he wants and get away with it, and I get carted off like a mental patient?! I’m HIM!”

“He wasn’t making that up?” Tess asked from the couch.

Devi stepped between them, but Banshee just leaned around her waist to answer. “No! I was sent to get that thing out of you! Johnny took it by accident! He was supposed to be dead by then!“ Devi continued trying to steer her out, but Banshee fought back. “Tess, come play with us!”

“What does this have to do with Johnny being un-dead and liking Edgar? I don’t-”

“GUYS!” Tenna screamed. “I don’t care what you do, okay? I’ll play the mother fucking kazoo with you for fuck’s sake, but I need to finish this show!”

Banshee threw Devi’s hands off of her once again. “It’s okay, Tenna. I’m going. Sorry.” 

As she stormed out, Banshee heard Devi say that she was calling Edgar. 

****

“I want to sing. And I want Tess with me.”

“Does Tess even sing?”

“I don’t care. She’s the red star.”

“I see.”

“Please?”

Johnny laughed. “Oh, really?” He held a hand up to his face, fluttered his eyelids, and put on his best innocent girl voice, “ _I hate you, Nny! Please let me take your spot in the group along with a woman who tried to break into your head and steal Edgar from you!”_

“You asked me what I wanted to sing, I’m telling you.”

“Fine. I’ll let the others know.”

****

Judging by the sound of the knocking, Edgar guessed that he had just barely made it to the door before it was broken in. When he opened it, Tess and Devi were standing on the porch.

“Oh, hi,” Edgar said, looking Tess over quickly. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t gotten everything settled with you, I just have a lot on my plate over here and-”

“Banshee wants me to sing with her,” Tess interrupted.

“You… sing?”

“I don’t think so. But I’m going to do it. She says I’m the-”

“Red star,” Edgar finished. “Yeah, we’ve been hearing a lot about that. I’d have to check with everyone else, but-”

“It’s fine,” Devi interrupted. “Tenna and I don’t really know what happened with this Banshee business, but if it’ll settle all of this crap so we can just keep living again, Tenna said she’d play the damn kazoo. And Jimmy is always on board as long as Nny and that kid want to do it. Just give Tenna time to throw something together for Mistress of MindBending here to wear.”

“Can I come in?” Tess asked. 

Devi held her hands up in front of her. “She’s all yours, Edgar. I’m out of here.”

“Yeah, thanks Devi. Come on in, Tess, we’ll… figure something out.” He wasn’t sure if Tess had really wanted to come or if Devi just wanted to get rid of her.

“Are you here alone?” Tess leaned around Edgar to glance up the stairs.

“For the moment, yes.”

“Do you think we could talk?”

“He’s not brainwashing me, and I’m not leaving.”

“I know. I just… wanted to apologize. I think things… got a little out of hand.”

Edgar folded his arms over his chest. “Oh, you think?”

“Edgar, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t even me the whole time.”

“Just be thankful for Banshee.”

Tess sat in the pink recliner and Edgar brought her a glass of water. She thanked him for it, but looked a little surprised to see it.

“I don’t think I can talk to you without one of us drinking something,” he explained sheepishly.

Tess laughed and took a drink. She opened her mouth to say something, but Edgar stopped her.

“He lets Banshee stay here because _I_ wanted her to stay.”

“Um, what?”

“He wants me to be happy, and he does things specifically to _make_ me happy.”

“Edgar, I-”

“I just wanted to get that in before you told me how sad my life is again.” He rocked back on his heels, put his hands in his pockets and offered a half-smile. “What did you want to say?”

“Nothing. It was nothing. Tell me about him instead.”

Considering everything that had happened, Edgar didn’t know what there was to tell. That Johnny had grown meaner and bitchier in the time Edgar had been talking to Tess? That he and Banshee nearly killed each other a few times? That they still might be doing that? 

“I’m not saying anything about him if you’re just going to turn it on me,” he warned.

“I’m not.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to tell you how I feel… I wonder, since it’s an option now, if you shouldn’t just talk to _him_ about all this instead.”

Tess shivered. “The last time I talked to him… He’s a little scary.”

“He can have that effect on people. Still, we’ve all been saying you just have to know him, right? And if you’re going to sing with Banshee, you’re going to sing with him too, so…”

“So I don’t have a choice.”

“No. No you really don’t.”

Johnny and Banshee returned thirty minutes later to find Tess and Edgar discussing movies and food and bad special effects in advertising. Banshee was thrilled to see Tess, heaped gratitude all over Johnny and Edgar for letting Tess in the house, and then even more onto Tess for coming over. Edgar managed to pry her away with some effort, explaining that he and Johnny were going to prepare Tess for being on stage and after a small argument about treating Banshee like a child, she stormed upstairs in a minor huff. 

Tess turned to Johnny and managed a smile. “I think it’s still weird to me that I’m not killing you,” she joked.

“Funny, I could say the same to you.”

“And on that note,” Edgar said, “I think I’ll go up with Banshee. Kindly keep the house intact if you need to murder each other, I just vacuumed in here.”

****

“Going to sing with Banshee, huh?”

“I guess so. I feel like I have to, after all this. I’ve never done it before. I don’t even think I can.”

“No one will notice.”

Johnny was calm, and he was in control and he was in one piece and it scared the hell out of Tess. 

“Do you… feel anything?”

“Tired,” Johnny answered.

“That’s not what I meant, I-”

“I know. I just don’t know why you should give a fuck.”

“I can be angry about what happened to us and still have a conversation!”

“So start asking me what you really want to.” Johnny leaned back against the arm of the couch.

“Why do you have all of this?” It wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask, but it was the one that came out.

“Because Edgar wanted me to.”

“Are you taking advantage of him?”

“Like any answer I give you would change your mind.”

“So that’s a ‘no’, then.” 

“No, I’m keeping him here against his will, and I definitely needed _him_ too, because Jimmy and Devi weren’t enough.”

Tess adjusted her glasses. “Are you manipulating them too?”

“Yes, absolutely. I must have depraved sex with all of them. Yesterday.” He picked at a loose string on the couch, then suddenly turned his attention to his cast.

“What does he see in you?”

“Fuck if I know,” Johnny replied, poking at a piece of his cast near his elbow. “I’d say ask him, but, you know, conspiracy batshit is a pretty thick filter to try to see through.”

“What could I do to get you to tell me the truth?”

“Nothing.” Johnny inspected his nails and picked off some black polish.

Tess sat up angrily. “That isn’t fair!” 

“It’s exactly what I can do to get you to believe me. We’re even.” Johnny barely glanced at her, reducing her back to a slump in her chair.

“Okay, well, then-”

“Why do you even need to know?” He still refused her eye-contact, but he sounded suddenly interested. 

Tess gave it her all, fingers trembling and tightening around her glass of water. “Because I want to think there are more than shitheads out there! That night I was stuck in your house, I’d walked out of a world diluted with assholes and into pure dickhead concentrate and when I came here, _you_ of all people are collecting friends who will die for you and fans who are sacrificing goats in parking lots at your shows!” 

“Heh, yeah. Those kids were great.” Johnny reclined casually. “They were pretty surprised to see Pepito when he showed up, though...”

“Don’t change the subject! Do you understand?” Tess challenged. “Are you even listening? Sure, my exes weren’t great guys, but they weren’t killing anyone, and I don’t see any of them lurking around this world with someone devoted to their every move and a kid.”

“I seem to be repeating myself lately. I think we’ve already covered that _Edgar did this_. My involvement consisted of a nod and thinking, somewhere at the back of my recently-expired head, “Fuck, I wonder if Edgar got us Freezies today.””

“Okay, okay. Say you are abusing him-”

“No.”

“I wasn’t done. Say you’re abusing him, and I ask you if you are. Is there any reality in which you would actually admit this to me?”

Johnny shrugged. “This one is as good as any other. Well, no, okay, I guess this one is an improvement on the last...”

“ _Would you?”_

“Would I tell you, Fucking Crazy Woman Who Tried To Blow My Head Up, that I was molding Edgar’s brain to do my evil bidding if, in fact, that was what I was doing? Hmm. Let’s see. Edgar denies everything, right?” He began counting on his fingers.

“Yes…”

“And you can’t be seen by anyone but us.”

Tess’ chest tightened. “Yes…”

“The only person in the house who has any sympathy for you is Banshee, everyone I know will believe anything I say, and the Anti-Christ owes me a favor.”

“Um.”

“So yes, Fucking Crazy Woman etcetera, _yes._ If I was killing him slowly and feeding off of his myopic life-energy to fuel my demonic forces of destruction, I would tell you.” He grinned devilishly and Tess had to fight away some left over horror from a life that was already over. “I would tell you,” he continued, reaching out to poke her in the chest for emphasis, “because there would be _nothing_ you could do if it were true.”

Tess’ breath stuck in her throat for the few seconds Johnny’s fingertip pushed against her chest. When he leaned back, still grinning and far more threatening than a man with a rainbow-marked cast should ever be, she tried to let the breath out slowly. She felt her body quiver, betraying her brief fear.

“Well?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“I do think our past few moments were loaded a little too heavily with discourse, Fucking Crazy Woman, and I may have lost track of the original question. Ask me again.”

“I want to know because I care about him.” Tess nodded toward the ceiling to indicate Edgar. “But I also want to know because I should have been in on this, and since I’m not... Well, if you got a happy extra life with all the people you killed, I want to at least live in a world where it’s faked and you’re actually manipulating these people so I can feel like I exist to do more than be a glorified incubator for that … thing.”

“So then ask me.”

“Do you love him? Do you really care about him?” The moment she heard it spoken outside of her own head, Tess could think of a million ways that Johnny could answer her by telling half-truths or asking his own questions that actually lead nowhere. She couldn’t be sure that ‘Are you manipulating him?’ was a better question, but what she asked seemed to encompass it, at least. 

Johnny’s expression changed subtly as he stared at her. She stared back, slightly uncomfortable, but determined to live through the conversation. Johnny laughed suddenly and broke the gaze. 

“Yes,” he said. The smirk on his face carried through his voice. 

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No.”

“Then what was-”

“So you can’t sing, huh?”

A second later, Tess heard Edgar coming down the stairs. 

****

Tess, or the thing in her, had been trying to destroy Johnny by making him remember what Edgar had sworn to help stay forgotten. The more Tess destroyed Johnny, the stronger and bigger Banshee grew. Edgar had hoped that someone would understand the connection. Johnny seemed content to say that the monster from the hotel television had done it, and Tess agreed with a shrug and an uncomfortable smile. 

“It’s that girl again, isn’t it?” Pepito asked when Edgar stepped onto his porch steps. 

“Sort of?”

“I didn’t do her.”

Edgar’s face contorted into nothing short of horror at Pepito’s words and Pepito actually disappeared into the house to laugh at himself before emerging a few moments later. 

“And I’m not _responsible for_ _her_ , either,” he said sweetly, offering Edgar one of his eternal cookies.

“It’s not about who made her,” Edgar said, taking the crumbling snack. “We figured that bit out. It’s just… you don’t even know Tess, do you?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of her standing moronically on my steps, no.”

“She’s connected… somehow. She was trying to make Johnny remember everything, and that made Banshee grow, and that’s connected to that thing from… you weren’t there for that either.” 

“The moose, right?”

“‘ _Moose_ ’?”

“It’s just easier to call it something monosyllabic. The thing that followed you people home back before Psycho-Face kicked it.”

“You practice saying this stuff, don’t you?”

Pepito said something silken and smooth about it being spontaneous and part of his natural charm but was contradicted by Todd’s voice screaming “All the time!” from somewhere in the house.

“That a _side_ ,” Pepito said, sliding onto the porch with Edgar and shutting the door behind him, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just described the thing perfectly.”

“That thing is a by-product of all of you,” Pepito replied, waving his hand dismissively.

Edgar crossed his arms. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t make something like that.”

“Not consciously, no. It’s part of the system they’re trying to work with on the other side. The one that got you here in the first place. It’s kind of … leftovers.”

“So they’re trying to get rid of it up there? That’s what Banshee was talking about with neutralizing it and everything.”

“She did that?”

“No,” Edgar answered. “She was apparently supposed to. Johnny did something with it instead.”

“You guys are adorable.”

“What?”

“So it’s still out there, right? Or is it hanging out in your house?”

Edgar sighed. “I think it’s in our closet.”

“Hang on,” Pepito said quickly, and he disappeared into the house.

Edgar waited and gnawed on his cookie until Pepito returned, with an annoyed Todd in tow. 

“Okay,” Pepito instructed, pointing at Edgar, “say that again.”

“Pepito, I’m not here to-”

“Come on, come on, just say it again.”

“I think it’s in our closet,” Edgar mumbled.

“The Moose?” Todd asked, leaning closer. 

“Yes, I think the Moose is in my closet!” Edgar shouted, flailing his hands above his head. “Are we happy now?”

Todd smiled, part in pity, part in amusement, and it may have been the first time Edgar had ever seen him look anything but scared or concerned. “That really is adorable. Sorry about that, though.”

“What is it?” Edgar asked.

“I told you,” Pepito said, preoccupied with something in one of his pockets. “Leftovers.”

“What I’m getting at here is that leftovers being in Johnny is kind of concerning me. What will it do to him?”

“I thought you said it was in your closet,” Todd said.

“It’s kind of both? I don’t know.”

“It’ll make him crazy if it hangs around, you know,” Pepito said casually. 

“How do I get rid of it?”

Todd looked vaguely uncomfortable, which, while usual for Todd, was sort of unsettling given the question. “He’ll have to go with it.”

“To die again.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Pepito nodded, counting the bottle caps in his pockets.

Johnny had been talking about dying since Banshee showed up. Since before then, maybe. 

“Fuck. He knew. He knew and was just letting me look like an idiot.” The rest of Edgar’s cookie fell to the warped boards of Pepito’s porch and crumbled to stale dust.

Pepito laughed in a kind of snort. “That’s not the reaction I expected at all.”

“I’ll be back,” Edgar said, springing down Pepito’s steps. “This is sort of important.”

“Indeed it is,” Pepito replied. Edgar saw him wave out of the corner of his eye.

 

****

 

Edgar burst into the house, scaring Banshee, who was gutting a cassette tape on the couch. 

“Where’s Johnny?”

Banshee shrugged. “Upstairs, I guess. I haven’t seen him.”

Edgar made a move for the stairs, but stopped abruptly and considered Banshee. 

“That thing you took out of Tess. Tell me about it.”

Banshee’s eyes immediately teared up and she crinkled some of the cassette ribbon at the mention of her failed purpose. “It had her and now it has Nny.”

“And it’s in the closet.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked at the shining strands in her lap.

“How would you go about getting rid of it now?”

She looked up at him, her eyes circled in black, her hair dyed within an inch of its life, and her expression part fear and part boiling anger. 

“That’s what I thought,” Edgar replied. “He told me this idea before and I just thought it was him being dramatic. And now it’s going to make him crazy or something.”

“Unless he-”

“I know!” Edgar shouted, and then more calmly, “I know.”

Banshee blinked at him. Stared through him. Seemed to see every stitch in every hem of his clothing and every hair on his head.

“What were you going to do as him?” Edgar asked, trying to shake the feeling of her gaze from his skin.

“Get rid of it. That’s all.”

“But all of him was in that closet. The stuff he wanted to forget, the stuff he couldn’t have remembered if he’d tried. What would you have done as a guy who ran around killing people?”

“I’d have been a girl who ran around killing people, I guess.”

“And you’re upset that you didn’t get to do this.”

“Yeah.”

“It would be a kid who lived in our van who wanted to grow up to be a homicidal maniac…” Which explained why she’d been dropped off with them in the first place, Edgar thought bitterly.

“He didn’t know,” Banshee said suddenly. “He just guessed.”

“And you know this?”

“I do.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But if he had been dead, everything in his part of the closet – everything he knows and remembers right now - would have gone to me in the first place. I would have been him, mostly, I guess, and taken the Moose out of Tess and-”

“Pepito called it that too, where the hell did that come from?”

“It’s just a good name for it.” She wound some of the cassette tape around her wrist. “Johnny has already died once, and Hell wanted him. Nothing in that closet can leave and enter him, because you guys promised or something. Tess didn’t know, but she was breaking off bits of him, giving them to me… making me big enough to do all this in time. If Johnny had been dead, I wouldn’t have been technically him and all Johnny’s mental stuff would have been in me. I would have been new, someone no one had promised anything to, and I would have been enough Johnny to attract the Moose, and then it would have nothing when it got to me – no ties to Hell, no crazy, at least not yet. It would have just died. Neutralized. I‘m a loophole.”

“And then you…?”

“Might have gone nuts from knowing that someone I only partly was had killed someone you were once, maybe.”

Edgar paused on a very gentle theory. “Did Johnny try to save you?”

“That would have been pretty fucking noble of me.” Edgar startled at the sound of Johnny’s voice. Johnny strolled into the room still very much alive and showing no signs of his recent deterioration save for the cast on his arm. 

“So that’s a ‘no’ then,” Edgar said as Johnny draped himself over the recliner. 

“Yeah, no.”

“What’s all this about dying, anyway?” Banshee asked. Brief flashes of light caught on the strips of cassette tape in her hair. 

“Nothing,” Edgar answered quickly.

Johnny stretched and grinned from the recliner. “It’s how I’m going to get rid of this thing.”

Edgar frowned, but let Johnny talk when Banshee looked intrigued. 

“You were supposed to get rid of it or some shit like that, so it’s apparently a threat to more than just me. Since I was planning on heading out of here anyway, I’ll just take it with me. It makes sense.”

“So… you _did_ do that to spare Banshee?” Edgar asked.

“I just told you no. She was all ready to suck it up and go crazy with it. Fine with me.”

“Fuck off,” Banshee spat.

Johnny ignored her. “I think I was the more complete version of me, even all fucked up and Tess-ified, so it wanted me when it realized I was there.”

“That doesn’t explain the dying,” Banshee said. “Are you killing yourself next week or something?”

Something tightened in Edgar’s chest.

“No,” Johnny said casually. “Not next week, anyway.”

“Why is it that you two suddenly just know everything?” Edgar asked. 

Johnny and Banshee looked at each other and Edgar watched them apparently mentally comparing notes. 

“I just know,” Banshee said softly. Though she was answering Edgar, her eyes were still locked onto Johnny. “Because it knew, and part of it went through me.”

“How long did it have Tess?” Edgar asked suddenly, breaking Banshee and Johnny’s mutual stare. Banshee turned to Edgar, blinking as though he’d only just appeared there.

“Almost as long as she existed,” Banshee said sadly. “It let her do things on her own, but… I think it always had her.”

“So did I ever actually talk to Tess?” Edgar asked.

Banshee posed a question in return. “Did you ever see the red star?”

“No.” He considered that it would have been appropriate to ask what she was even talking about, and what kind of hallucinogenic stuff she’d been into lately, but only that single word made it out.

“Then maybe not. When I saw the red star, it told me about Tess. It _is_ Tess. The bits of her that the Moose didn’t get. That’s why I wanted her to play, she-”

“The metaphors in your world are disturbingly literal, Banshee,” Johnny commented, flipping through some stray paper near the base of the pink chair.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen stars when talking to Tess, no,” Edgar said. He glanced every few moments at Johnny, but aside from fidgeting with his cast, Johnny didn’t seem to be up to anything suspicious.

“It’s not all the time,” Banshee said, untangling the tape. “It’s just sometimes.”

“Riiight. Well, okay then. So there’s nothing I can do right now but play with Tess on stage and then wait for Johnny to kill himself, yes?”

Johnny and Banshee both replied, though neither of them had made eye-contact with him or each other.

“Yeah.”

 

****

 

It was the first time he’d seen Banshee happy about something that was not causing someone physical harm in months. She had practically floated from place to place and talked incessantly of how great it would be to do something with Tess. When the time came to actually do something, Banshee performed constant maintenance on Tess’ makeup. Edgar asked her a few times if she thought the red star was going to disappear. She either ignored him or took the implications to be extremely serious. She laughed only when he specifically mentioned that he meant the star on Tess' cheek and not the weird abstract one Banshee had reported seeing before.

Devi and Jimmy approached Johnny, and were met with an eyebrow raise. 

“We were just worried that she was doing things to your head,” Devi said, as she mimed the 'crazy' motion near her temple. Jimmy nodded furiously. 

Johnny denied there was any problem. “My brains are fine, she isn't bothering me.”

Jimmy looked at Edgar to be some sort of voice of reason. “Is it going to be okay?”

Edgar spread his hands and shrugged. “If it makes Banshee happy, and Johnny's okay, I'm okay too.”

Tenna, prepared to go on stage and kazoo for all she was worth, didn't bother to ask about Tess, or how anyone was feeling. 

“I feel a little like I'm in drag,” Tess mumbled as Banshee adjusted her outfit again.

“Dead people drag,” Jimmy laughed to himself. 

Tess’ body had been painted black in random streaks in a response to her description of what it felt like to disappear in Johnny’s old house. Her eyes were blacked out with lenses and a long bar of the black paint covered her jaw and bottom lip. The red star that had so entranced Banshee was planted in the center of her forehead. 

Banshee had insisted on the placement, saying, “Like a third eye!”

Devi took Edgar aside while Banshee fussed over Tess and Jimmy was distracted. 

“Okay, now that stupid isn't attached to me, tell me for real: Is this going to be okay?” Devi asked.

“I told you, this makes them happy, so it’s fine.”

“And you're really okay with it?”

“Yes.”

“And what if Banshee wants her to stay?”

“She can’t live with me, and I’m not asking her to live with you, if that’s what you-”

Devi shook her head. “No, I mean what if she wants to stay _here_. In the band. Singing and whatever. When it’s all of us, it’s not really that bad, but it’s not like Tess should really even be here, you know, music-wise.”

Edgar laughed. “I don’t think any of us should really be here, music-wise.”

“Don’t say that,” Devi said, poking his side. “We’re awesome.”

“I know, I just… something. I don’t really know what I ‘just,’ but I’ll let you know when I do. It’ll be okay. We're fine.”

Devi smiled and slipped away to talk to Johnny again, who was more alive for this show than he’d been in months. His arm was still in a cast, but they’d pry it off of him soon and then he could go back to wearing gloves and long sleeves during performances. Edgar watched Johnny give Devi some sort of sly comment that made her laugh. She walked away from his satisfied smirk shaking her head. When Tess stepped in to talk to Johnny, habit made Edgar twitch to prevent her from getting too close. 

Johnny joked with her, even going so far as to poke the black on her face. Tess said something that made Johnny point to Tenna, and the conversation seemed to stall from there. 

Banshee threw herself against Edgar suddenly, tearing his attention away from Tess and Johnny. She wrapped her arms around him in an awkward kind of hug, and didn’t bother to wait for him to reciprocate before letting go and twirling a few times in front of him. The streams of her costume trailed after her and rippled in waves while she babbled excitedly at him.

“We’re gonna do this, Edgar! It’s going to be amazing! You’re going to love this, I know it! She belongs here, don’t you think? I think Johnny even sorta likes her, and hey, if he can like me after I break his arm, he can like her too, you know?”

“I’m not… yes.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She shrugged and danced off to the other side of the room again, this time to poke at Johnny’s cast. Edgar could hear Johnny promise to bash Banshee’s skull open with it when he got it removed and it took Edgar a few moments to realize that ‘relief’ was not the appropriate reaction to have when hearing two people he cared about threaten each other.

Jimmy announced that there was a small scuffle in the audience and that someone had brought another goat to attempt to sacrifice. 

“Oh,” Johnny said, “we need to watch this.”

“We’re actually the ones who are supposed to be watched,” Devi reminded him.

Johnny dismissed her with a wave of his hand and a hiss. He stepped beyond the curtain to the stage and was soon heard polling the applauding audience about goats. Devi rolled her eyes, grabbed a few extra drum sticks and followed him. Tenna trailed after her, blowing horrible noises out of her kazoo. Jimmy poked Edgar and motioned for him to get moving. 

“Come on, the dramatic entrance is sorta shot anyway.”

Edgar looked back to Banshee and Tess. 

“Will you two be okay?”

“We’re coming,” Banshee replied, tugging Tess’ wrist. “Goat sacrifice is a pretty good distraction.”

“How often does this happen?” Tess asked. “I… sort of thought we were joking when this came up before.”

“Just the one time,” Edgar reassured her. “I’ll be surprised if they pull it off again.”

When they stepped out, Johnny was already conversing with a large part of the audience.

“So do you have a farm or what? Yeah? And they’re cool with you killing it way out here?”

A faint bleating sound was heard under the noise of excited fans.

The lights were the same always, and the stitches on Edgar’s skin just as prone to melting in them. He at least had the advantage over Tess, who was sweating from nerves as much as heat. Even with her there, the atmosphere was familiar and wonderfully so. Despite his broken arm, Johnny appeared to be thriving, and his conversation with the audience, about beheading goats or not, was quite welcome.

Someone in the audience screamed, “Take the knife! Do it!”

“I’m not doing it,” Johnny told the guy. “I’m wearing a cast.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” Edgar asked from behind the keyboard. Thanks to the mic, his voice was heard over the screaming below. A patch of screams distinctly teenage-girl in nature erupted when Edgar finished speaking, and Edgar was sure he heard some of them yelling requests along the lines of ‘Make out!’ and ‘Grope him!’

“Absolutely,” Johnny answered, flashing a grin both at Edgar and the audience. “It’s my killing arm.”

“You only use one?” Jimmy asked. “I'm pretty sure I remember it being an ambidextrous sort of experience.”

Johnny shrugged. “I’ve evolved a little. You were killed in my impressionistic period.”

The audience cheered yet again, some of them still calling for Johnny to make out with someone. Who he kissed didn’t seem to matter because the chants continued even while he talked to Devi and Tenna. Johnny ignored the requests and happily conversed with the chunks of the audience not invested in make outs and goat killing. 

When the others had set up and Johnny's traditional chatter was over, Johnny turned to look at Banshee and Tess as they hovered near Devi and her drums. 

“Well?” he asked them.

“Maybe we should work up to it,” Banshee said. 

“Wimp,” Tenna called from the front. She was perched on the edge of the stage, kazooing merrily at the fans who grasped at her feet. 

Johnny turned back to the audience. “Our demon is afraid to sing to you losers!” he shouted. 

“Am not!” Banshee countered, though she was almost drowned out by the sounds of the fans.

Johnny pointed at Jimmy, though he didn’t look at him. “You. Play something.”

“What, you want _me_ to pick what we’re doing first?”

“If you don’t, I will,” Devi threatened.

A dramatic riff of “dun dun DUN” erupted from Edgar’s keyboard.

“Fuck off,” Jimmy muttered, though the mic picked up his voice anyway. He picked at a few things while the others stared at him, waiting. 

“Any day now, Jimmy.”

“Hey, I’m thinking! You put me on the spot! I thought we were just going to do it like normal...”

Tenna began to kazoo a song, and when a few audience members tried to hum it with her, Jimmy picked it up. Devi tapped along softly and Edgar adjusted his keys accordingly. When it started full-swing Johnny laughed genuinely and honestly, taking some of the audience off guard. When it was Jimmy who sang the shaky lyrics instead of Johnny, there was an appreciable increase in the noise from the crowd. Tenna kazooed for all she was worth, Devi sang some ridiculous back-up and Edgar was humming along to keep from laughing.

Johnny, unneeded for this particular act of silliness, strolled back to Tess and a gleeful Banshee. Banshee was already into the song, and piping up with Devi when the back-up parts called for it. She and Johnny both poked Tess to sing along. Tess protested, mouthing that she didn’t know the words. 

“Bullshit,” Johnny said. “Just listen to it.” 

“ _Chicken’s got a kickstand,_ ” Jimmy chanted.

Devi, Banshee and Tenna doo-wopped in return. 

“ _Cheese in a spray can._ ” 

And another doo-wop back. 

“You too,” Johnny insisted. “Don’t go denying the request of a poor crippled guy.”

“You’re not crippled, you bastard.”

Johnny shushed her and he and Banshee cued Tess for the next round of doo-wopping back up. She sang along, and actually began to smile. Satisfied, Johnny coaxed them out of the back, and stepped off to the side to slide onto Edgar’s bench at the keyboard. Some very vocal parts of the crowd erupted into shrieks while Johnny poked at the keyboard and earned a few half-hearted and well-timed swats from Edgar. 

Edgar enjoyed the attention. He knew he couldn’t sing, and Johnny was hardly making an effort to counter Jimmy being wacky, but performing with Johnny even if they were both essentially making it up thrilled Edgar in a way that few things could. A performance was more fun when the people performing were enjoying it.

Jimmy repeated the song long enough that the audience knew the words by the time he finally choked out the final notes. Johnny stayed on the bench behind the keyboard with Edgar, and poked a few keys until he found a note he seemed to enjoy. 

“Do you mind?” Edgar said.

“No,” Johnny laughed. “I think we’ll go with this one.”

The audience grew shrill once again to hear Johnny and Edgar talking, even about nothing. Johnny suggested a song, and Edgar stared at him, waiting for him to move. 

“Show me how it starts,” Johnny said, trailing his fingertips over the keys. 

“What, you mean the notes?”

“Nny,” Devi growled from behind the drums, “stop fucking around and let’s go.”

“Wait, I’m not done,” Johnny shot back. He turned back to Edgar as though the conflict had been resolved. “So anyway, show me.”

Edgar shrugged and touched a few keys, playing a very soft and slow intro. Johnny took in the notes like a sponge, practically breathing them in the moment they hit the air. 

“Okay,” he said, “we’ll do that one. Like the start again, eh?” Johnny rose sharply from the bench, twirled away, and a brush of tattered, striped fabric brushed Edgar’s face. The costume had barely settled back on to Johnny’s body before he was in place and demanding a quick start from the others. He turned to Banshee and Tess for a quick second, pointed at them, and then spun back to the audience.

The song pulled at Edgar’s hands and practically played itself. They’d practiced it so many times before anyone could see them, and played it so often afterward that it existed beyond them. It wasn’t their song; they’d borrowed it from the depths of the music in their minds, but it still held as sentimental a meaning as the Homicides could be bothered to feel.

“ _Welcome to the lower berth_ __  
The greatest show unearthed  
We appear without a sound  
The darkest show around  
We will leave you in a daze  
Madness, murder, dismay  
We will disappear at night  
With blood on the concrete” 

Banshee had always enjoyed the song and Edgar watched her encouraging Tess to get into it. Tenna’s painting on Tess had ensured that even when Tess looked unsure, she was at worst unreadable and at best terrifying. Banshee had been right about her, though. It _did_ feel right to play with Tess there. As soon as they discovered what Tess could truly contribute, Edgar felt certain the others would want her to stay too. Johnny, Jimmy and Devi sang the song with the same enthusiasm that had made them visible for the first time, and Banshee joined them, eagerly dragging Tess with her. 

“ _I will be your ticket taker_ __  
Come inside it's a dream  
Enter the fun house of mirrors  
No one can hear you scream  
We can supply anything  
That your heart desires  
But the consequences  
Will surely be dire” 

 

Banshee tried to steal Johnny’s mic a few times, despite having her own. She played it off as part of her stage persona, but the spark in Johnny’s eyes said he’d read her otherwise. She twirled around him and swept her arms through the outstretched palms of the audience during an instrumental bit while Tess did the same, slowly warming to the idea of being something terrifying to other people and not to herself. The audience didn’t know who she was, or what she was doing there, but they were just as eager to reach out to her as they were to touch Banshee. 

“ _Come inside_ __  
For the ride  
Your deepest darkest fears  
  
The best night  
Of your life  
You're never leaving here  
  
The unknown  
The unseen  
Is what you're gonna find  
  
Witness this  
Witness that  
Until you lose your mind “

Unsuprisingly, Tess enjoyed the 'la, lalala' parts of the song the best. Edgar couldn't blame her. He thought maybe that was his favorite too. Banshee was very serious about the 'la la la' bit, and treated it like a tribal dance. Johnny indulged her, if only to the extent that he consented to being the one worshiped.

The song ended, the crowd attempted to deafen the band, and Johnny began to speak. He was quickly interrupted, however, by Banshee humming into a mic held near her throat. Johnny would have pushed onward and ignored her if not for Tenna starting a kazoo accompaniment. She was clearly intrigued, and had an expression on her face Edgar had never seen before. Tess seemed terrified at this unplanned turn of events, but her desperate glances to Edgar and Jimmy were met with no response as the two of them slowly began to try something they’d never done before. It was clunky and rough at first as they organized who was taking what part and when, but soon, the song fleshed itself out and began to build properly. 

Devi stood in the back, trembling a little in spite of her death-white stage persona. “Guys, seriously?”

Johnny motioned for Tess to follow him as he walked back to Devi and offered her his mic. “I don’t think I should be the one to do this one.”

“You know I don't really sing this stuff.”

“I don't think that's going to matter for this one.”

Devi took the mic, and slowly, hesitantly and entirely unlike her drumming, began to sing.

“ _And she’s pretty sure it’s you_  
and you’re pretty sure it’s her  
but no one will say a word  
because it’s all a work in progress.”

Her confidence grew with every word and soon it was as if the song had always been meant to be heard aloud. Johnny sang with her, though not to overpower, or even to duet. He kept himself in the background with Banshee while Tess remained confused between them.

“ _There was that time at the King Buffet_  
And the other in the drive thru,  
When she said, ‘I can take him’  
And you were pretty sure it wasn’t you.

 

 _And the idiots surround her_  
And she tells them all to go to hell  
Because they’re in her space now  
And they can’t even fucking know.

 

 _Cry ‘blasphemy’, cry ‘fuck you’_  
But don’t bother to change  
Because it’s all a work in progress, dear  
And we’re all bound to be a little strange.”

The song faded away awkwardly, as not one of the group on stage had ever heard Devi’s song actually end before. Devi saved them by humming the same way Banshee had and with those notes, the audience became irrelevant. Tenna attempted protest from the front of the stage where she’d been happily kazooing to Devi’s song, but was not prepared for her own. Devi sang the first few words alone, before Banshee joined her, both of them eagerly motioning for Tenna to join them. 

“ _She's got technicolor shoes_  
Untied, laces trailing  
But that's okay, I'm with the band, baby  
I'll follow you anyway.”

They laughed through most of the rest of the song, and didn’t even make it to the end before Tenna grew too flustered at singing her own song and brought out her kazoo to buzz out another tune entirely. 

As though he had thought about it at considerable length before, Jimmy picked up his own song and felt no need to wait for the band to catch up with him before he was playing and singing the tune with everything in him. Edgar rushed to catch up to him, and Devi hurridly returned to her drums to help them keep some kind of beat. 

“ _When I was twelve_  
I sold my soul  
to Lucifer  
for a sack of coal”

Edgar watched Johnny talking hurriedly, almost angrily, to Tess. She looked alarmed and angry right back and shook her head as Johnny spoke. 

“ _cuz I never been hot enough  
but I aim to start”_

Jimmy was not designed to sing, but something about being the source of the song made it sound right only if Jimmy sang it. It had been the same with Devi, and Tenna’s song had only sounded like itself once she joined in. It was with some great fear that Edgar realized he’d be next, and for the song to work, it would need to be him singing it. Jimmy ended his song on a note that sounded more like agony than singing, and let the pain in his voice transition into words that stitched themselves into every shred of Edgar’s life. 

“ _Sticks and stones could break my bones  
if they were really there_ _  
_ _as it is now, I’m immortal_  
cuz until I find happy”

 

Edgar joined him on the next line.

“ _I have nothing to fear.”_

The rest of Edgar’s song simply flowed out of him, and his reservations about singing it vanished, replaced by the elation of being able to let the song out. The others knew the song, sang and played it with him. When the moment came that it felt right to let the song go, Edgar transitioned from his own song to playing Johnny’s. He could feel Devi, Tenna and Jimmy flinch as they joined in. Johnny stood quietly with Banshee and Tess, transfixed at the sound of the song, but clearly bitter that it wasn’t something he could sing. 

Several measures into the tune, Banshee danced out to the middle of the stage and began what Johnny was always accusing her of - putting words into his song.

“ _history coming from your speakers_

_and your soul frosted on the glass_

_concerned about the future_

_distracted by the past”_

 

Johnny twitched as he watched Banshee, and Edgar hoped he'd save throttling her for when a few hundred people weren't watching. The words Banshee sang fit the song as though they had always been there, and she sang them with such confidence, that Edgar imagined that she had sung them hundreds of times. 

_'fresh fortune cookie_

_and an ancient dance_

_you uproot Heaven and Hell_

_if ever you get the chance'_

Banshee stopped singing two verses in and turned to the others, away from the audience. She motioned to Tess, who started to hum Edgar's song into a previously-concealed microphone. Jimmy and Devi faltered, unsure of whether to go with Tess, or drown her out. 

“Keep going!” Banshee shouted. She turned a second later to Tenna and had her kazoo along with Tess. She continued using Tess and Tenna to switch which songs to fuse with Johnny's while the others exchanged occasional uneasy glances. Devi kept a steady beat, and Edgar and Jimmy kept faithfully to Johnny's song, though they both played like it burned them. Johnny was not amused, and looked quite threatening when he finally gave into his rage and crossed the stage to stop Banshee. 

Banshee saw him, stopped abruptly, and freed the others to do the same. The audience cheered and threw a few things in celebration. Apparently, Banshee's stunt hadn't ruined the show entirely.

“That's what my song sounds like,” Banshee announced, spreading her arms wide. Johnny tried to grab her arm, but Jimmy stopped him. 

“Nny, it's cool. Just wait.” 

Johnny growled, and the noise popped over the speakers.

“My song isn't real,” Banshee continued. “They put it together pretty badly, because it only had to be functional a little while. It's just Nny's song, with ugly patches of the others, and some shoddy lyrics that belong to me, but it was always there, just like the others. I didn't know until recently. I'll sing you something else now.”

Edgar shared a clueless expression with Jimmy and Devi. A moment later, he heard a ping, and saw Tess standing by with a triangle. Someone in the audience laughed, and Tess flinched, though the audience probably didn't notice thanks to her make-up.

Banshee started a soft chant, and Tess followed her. 

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina”_

Banshee and Tess repeated the single syllable in a looping rhythm until Devi began to tap it out with them. Banshee grinned, Tess seemed to relax, and Jimmy let go of Johnny. Johnny appeared slightly less murderous now that his song wasn't being slaughtered all around him, but he still did not look pleased. 

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina”_

Jimmy played something very gentle when he released Johnny. 'Gentle' was a strange sound coming from him. It drove Edgar back to his keys, where he found the song Banshee was chanting sitting in his head. He'd never heard it before, but he was able to play just enough of it for Banshee to use. Softly, Edgar played his way into a song he didn't know, but that Banshee had conjured into his head.

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina”_ _  
_

“ _Nokva so senki pak zboruvam  
Moram od sebe da pobegnam”_

Banshee began to sing, but in a language Edgar didn't know. He played for her, just like Jimmy and Devi, but he did it as though he was being guided on strings. Banshee obviously knew the words, but Edgar wondered if she was being manipulated by something outside too.

 __  
“Tri angeli me čuvaat  
Odam po vistinski pat”

Edgar thought he saw swirling colors or maybe giant hands out of the corner of his eye when Banshee stood on her toes to sing the chorus. She sang it like they were the most important words she was ever going to convey to anyone.

“ _Mojot svet se vika muzika!”_

Maybe it wasn't even singing so much as declaring.

_  
“Nema vera nitu granica!”_

Whatever Edgar has seen was gone. Banshee held her arms out and sang to the sky, calling in a language she didn't know with incredible sincerity. 

__  
“Mojot svet se osum noti  
Edna duša balkanska”

Johnny slid next to Edgar on his bench and surprised him, though Edgar didn't falter with the strange notes _._

“I know the words,” Johnny whispered.

Edgar almost laughed. “I know the notes.”

  
_  
“Mojot svet se vika muzika  
Nema vera nitu granica  
Mojot svet se osum noti_ _  
_ _Edna duša balkanska!”_

Banshee glanced around her when she finished the chorus, and though she continued into the next verse, she looked momentarily confused as to where she was.

“ _Sonce me budi vo postela  
Pesna me gali vo dušata_

She held her hands in the air in front of her face, caressing empty space. Johnny hummed with her, studying her movements.

 __  
Tri spomeni što bolea  
Večno gi izbrišav jas”

 

The chorus surged back again, with Banshee just as enthusiastic, if not more so. Johnny sang with her, and elbowed Edgar as he did.

“ _Mojot svet se vika muzika  
Nema vera nitu granica  
Mojot svet se osum noti_ _  
_ _Edna duša balkanska!”_

Edgar refused to sing, but intensified what he played. Judging from his grin, it seemed that was what Johnny wanted anyway. Banshee turned to look at Johnny and Edgar for brief moment. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile and she stomped the floor as she screamed out the chorus once again.

“ _Mojot svet se vika muzika!  
Nema vera nitu granica!  
Mojot svet se osum noti_ _  
_ _Edna duša balkanska!”_

She and Tess transitioned into more of the rhythmic syllables from the opening as Banshee stomped on the stage along to them. 

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina  
Naina naina, nanana naina”_

Tenna sat off to the side, clapping in time, and Edgar felt Johnny's muscles tense with every beat.

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina_ ”

The beats grew more and more intense and climaxed in Banshee releasing a joyous cry. When she did, the song continued without her, primarily in voices Edgar didn't recognize as belonging to the band. Banshee glowed and reached skyward for something that was busy matching her glow near the ceiling. 

The final note of the song burst over the audience, who applauded and cheered. Johnny laughed and leaned close to Edgar. “I'm surprised the usual crowd liked something like that.” Only Edgar heard him, and he was nearly drowned out by a cracking sound from the roof of the auditorium. 

The glow from the ceiling intensified and widened until it let out another crack and a long slick claw slid from the center of it. Johnny shuddered, covered one of his ears with his hand and braced himself against Edgar. Devi swore loudly and called to Tenna, while Tess backed away, dropped her triangle to the floor and positioned Jimmy between herself and the thing slowly stretching its way out of a glow in the air. 

People in the audience screamed and cheered in equal measure, most of them sure it was part of the show. When the grotesque shape of the thing finally manifested completely, Edgar saw the tiniest flash of the huge smoke-like hands from a few minutes prior filling the air. They were wrapped around Banshee or waving at the newly emerged creature above them. When Edgar blinked, they vanished. He clutched Johnny's arm, unable to move from his seat.

“What was she singing?” he asked.

For once, Johnny skipped mocking that Edgar didn't know something. “She sang about music. Couldn't you _feel_ that?” 

“No.”

The creature in the ceiling opened its mouth, revealing rows upon rows of sharp teeth. It raised a clawed hand, but before Edgar could call out a warning to run, it simply waved. 

“Hi there,” the creature said. His voice was squeaky and awkward, despite his terrifying appearance. He waved at the audience a little and added, “Hey guys, yeah, sorry, I'll just be a few minutes. Sorry about this.”

Tess – at least Edgar thought it was Tess - made a gagging sound from behind Jimmy. 

“So,” the monster continued, turning to the Homicides, “I'm a bit new at this, so I hope it's okay if I just read this. You guys don't mind, do you?”

Jimmy wordlessly shook his head with his eyes wide, and the others followed suit after the creature waited expectantly for confirmation from the rest of the people on stage.

“Okay, great,” the monster said, pulling out a folded letter. He coughed once, and read dramatically from the paper. “Dear Sir or Madam, it has come to our attention that we've made an error in processing and sent you a superfluous person. It was our understanding the that the original subject was to be terminated at a certain time and that a replacement would later be needed. We are genuinely surprised to see that it is otherwise.”

Banshee screamed incoherently at the creature while he read, but he continued over her.

“Our systems are undergoing an overhaul and will soon be under new management. Any previous contact, contracts, relationships, roles, or affiliations you have had with us will be terminated upon the transfer of ownership of reality. Please return the superfluous element with the attached envelope, and we will be in contact regarding the next steps should you wish to continue your association with us. Again we apologize for any inconvenience this has caused and we look forward to working with you in the future. Sincerely, The Management.”

“ _Superfluous_ person?!” Banshee shrieked.

“Um, yes,” the creature replied, checking the wording on his document. “That's you, yes? That's easy enough then. You're taking up more space than you're allowed, and it's making the transition difficult.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, please don't do this. It's my first time.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Devi demanded.

“I'm the envelope,” the creature answered. “I just read that part.”

Banshee flung her arms wide and stomped her foot.“I'm not going anywhere!”

“Well, the original is still alive, isn't he? Sitting right over there.” The creature pointed at Johnny, who glared sourly in response.

“So then take _him_!” Banshee yelled. “I'm the new one! The _improvement_! He's the obsolete one! If anyone is superfluous, _he_ is!”

Jimmy stormed forward and grabbed Banshee's arm, wrenching her back toward him. “What the fuck do you think you're saying?!”

“What, Uncle Jimmy? You want to trade me in to keep _him_?” She turned back to face Edgar and Johnny, trying to wrench her arm free. “You too, right? I'm not a nice little girl, so send me away?”

Edgar's throat was dry as he tried to defend himself. “No, no, that's not it at all, I-”

Banshee turned back to the monster in the ceiling, finally smacking Jimmy's hand away. “What happens if I go with you, huh?”

“Well, we're still busy cleaning,” he admitted. “So, you'll probably have to wait in the closet with everyone else for a while.” 

“And then?”

“Oh, oh, I know this!” He flailed his claw hands in excitement and began apparently reciting. “They, um, process you and decide if you'll be useful to the new system they're implementing, and if you are, then you'll be reassigned somewhere. If not, you get composted!” He was clearly delighted with himself and made a schlopping noise that Edgar assumed to be laughter. 

Banshee looked at Jimmy, who was poised to grab her again. “Am I useful?” she asked him. He hesitated, and she screamed in his face, letting the sound screech and crack over the speakers.

She pointed angrily to the back of the stage where Devi, Tess, and Tenna stood near the drum set and demanded again, “Am I useful?!”

“Yes,” Tess managed to choke out. 

Banshee narrowed her eyes, but didn't scream this time. Instead, she walked over to Edgar's keyboard. She asked the same question of him and Johnny, poking a note on the keys with every word, “Am. I. Useful?”

“Yes,” Edgar said at the same moment as Johnny's “No.”

Edgar elbowed Johnny, but Banshee had already heard. 

“No,” Johnny repeated, shoving Edgar's elbow away. “Just like me.”

“Johnny, stop,” Edgar said. He was braced for an incoming scream from Banshee, but was surprised when it didn't come.

“Did you know,” Banshee said, fondly running a finger over the keyboard, “that no one will ever hear your song ever again? Did you know that hearing those songs connected you to the system that got you all killed over and over?”

Johnny blinked and just then Edgar realized that aside from the sound of Banshee's voice and the crowd below, he couldn't hear anything. Johnny's song, the tune that used to sit comfortably woven into Edgar's thoughts, was gone, along with Edgar's own song. His fingers itched to reproduce the notes of both songs, but as Banshee continued talking the notes began to fade from his mind. 

“They were never going to let go of you,” Banshee said. “You have a song with no words. You can't get the song out the same way they all can. _You're_ stuck with it all, alone.”

Johnny glared at her. “You tricked them into this.”

“It was a suggestion.” She shrugged. “They liked it. And I think it brought _him_ here.”

“So... what's going on here?” Ceiling Monster asked when Banshee nodded to him. “I think they're going to wonder why I've been gone so long and I'd just like to not be in trouble. I know this is super awkward, but um, if you guys could help me out, that'd be really great.”

“I'm _useful_ ,” Banshee told him, marching purposefully back toward the monster. “I know things they don't. I _see_ things they don't. And I'm not _trapped._ You go ahead and take me and see what I do.”

Banshee began to glow the moment the last word left her lips. 

Tess and Edgar ran out after her screaming “No!” and shared a a moment of surprise at their joint outburst before Edgar continued alone, “If you're just going to put her in a closet then at least let her wait here!”

The Ceiling Monster nervously shuffled his claws. “I can't, there's two people taking up space when there should only be one...”

“That's not fair!” Tess said.

“Just seems like good math to me,” Johnny said.

The Ceiling Monster clapped with relief. “Oh, thank you!” 

“What would happen if you took both of us?” Johnny asked casually. He stepped out from behind Edgar's keyboard. Someone in the audience cheered and an egg smashed and splattered across the stage floor. 

“Oh, oh, I couldn't do that. That's two people in once space again, you see... Very awkward.”

“I once belonged to you people!” Edgar cried. “You had a book, you watched everything I did and gave me everything in my house! I watched over Johnny and you used me to affect him! Doesn't that have some bearing on Banshee?”

“They're canceling everything, Edgar,” Devi said. “Fucking listen to the thing. It doesn't mean anything now.”

“You can't just be okay with this!” he protested.

“I didn't say I was!” she snapped.

“You can all stand around talking about this, or you could let me make my own decisions!” Banshee screamed. “I'm going! They'll never destroy me!” She stomped her boot on the stage once and threw her arms up, angrily yelling to the monster in the ceiling. “You won't even fucking know what hit you! Let's go!” 

She was lifted into the air once again. Edgar tried to run forward and stop her, but Tess and Johnny held him back. Pulling against their grip, Edgar called to Banshee, but his voice was lost in the sound of the audience, his bandmates, and the ceiling monster's polite thank you speech. Banshee waved – Edgar hoped it was at him, though he couldn't rule out Tess who was standing right beside him – and then she happily saluted. 

The song Banshee had sung crept out over all the other sound in the room. Banshee screamed her chorus out once more.

“ _Mojot svet se vika muzika!  
Nema vera nitu granica!  
Mojot svet se osum noti_ _  
_ _Edna duša balkanska!”_

“ _Naina naina, nanana naina...”_

Replacing the songs that had once been so comfortable, the deliberate 'nai na nai na' of Banshee's song swirled through Edgar's head, and in a brilliant flash of light and a scream that sounded nothing less than joyous, Banshee vanished.

“We'll be in contact,” the monster said when Banshee had gone. “Thanks for your cooperation, this makes things so much easier for me, wow. You guys are great.” He waved his giant claw at the cheering audience. “Sorry for the interruption, folks. Have a nice day!” 

There was a sloppy, wet, sucking sound and then he was gone. Edgar assumed that the audience was cheering, but he couldn't hear them. Tess was talking, apparently, though Edgar couldn't hear her either. 

Johnny elbowed him. “She'll be back,” he said. 

“You think so?” His voice betrayed a little hope, even after all Banshee had done. 

“They just took her because she is _me_. She's coming back.” 

Devi called to them over the sound of the audience. “Guys, we need to do something!”

“Like what?!” Tenna screamed, “A séance?”

“They'd love that!” Jimmy cheered. “You want to resurrect the goat!?”

“It's a little cruel to the goat, don't you think?” Devi asked.

Edgar said nothing and stared, baffled by the others while they continued this conversation around him. Hadn't they been attached to the girl who was just sucked into the ceiling? Even if she had made a mess of things at the end, they'd still given her nicknames and made her weird clothes and chopped her hair off. He tried to say something, tried to ask if they were feeling well, tried to make sense of anything. Johnny stopped him with another elbow to the ribs. Edgar watched him switch his microphone off. 

“One more song, Edgar.”

“Nny, they're just-” Johnny pressed a finger to Edgar's lips.

“One. More. We get these people and their goat carcass out of here, and then you do whatever you need to.” He nodded toward Jimmy and Tenna's spirited conversation about goat hauntings. “They're picking up your slack here, come on.”

“I can hardly _think_! What if she isn't okay? What-”

“I told you. She'll be fine, and she'll be back.”

Edgar looked at the teeming mass of people cheering for Jimmy and Tenna's mangled ode to Devi's purple hair, and swallowed. “How can they even...”

“Am I ever wrong?” Johnny asked, diverting his attention away.

“Johnny, this really isn't the time to be relying on your own supernatural favors when that monster just said they were getting rid of all that!”

Johnny shoved Edgar's shoulder playfully. “ _Trust me._ ”

Resigned, Edgar nodded, pulled his shoulders back up, and tried to compose his brain. 

“One song,” Johnny reminded him, holding up a single finger. “And it would be good if we made it look like that's what we were discussing over here. What do you want to play? Make it good.”

Edgar's head spun and the blurry audience around him made it difficult to focus on Johnny. “Um, I- jeez. Okay. Okay.” What Edgar needed now was something ridiculous. He needed something baffling, he needed something that made as much sense as what as just happened. “You remember what we played in that garage before that old guy got angry at us? The time Tenna threw paint everywhere?”

Johnny laughed. “For real?”

“Yeah. Let's do that.”

Johnny switched his mic back on. “You can't wimp out on me. You're all yelling with me, or no one does and then I'm not responsible for what the hounds do to us.” He nodded toward the audience, who responded enthusiastically to Johnny's name calling, as always. Edgar nodded, retreated to his bench, and began adjusting some settings on his keyboard. 

Johnny motioned to Tess, who had been attempting to hide behind Tenna. “Come 'ere. I've got a question for you.”

Tess glanced apprehensively at Tenna, and Tenna shoved her toward Johnny. “Go on, go on! This'll be the fun part!” 

Johnny threw an arm over Tess's shoulders and grinned. “This is an important question, do you think you can handle this?”

Devi dropped a drumstick behind them. “Is he serious?” she hissed at Edgar. Of course the whole room heard her. Edgar nodded, smiling, while Johnny continued to make Tess nervous. 

“That... probably depends on the question,” Tess answered.

“Guys...” Johnny paused, searching for words that amused him more. “Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Blood-sucking maggots, this is Tess. She has no musical talent to speak of yet, so we're setting her up in a trial by fire. Do you think she can answer this question?”

Jimmy dramatically shook his head 'no' behind Johnny, which the audience was happy to mimic.

“It's not looking good for you, Tess,” Johnny reported with an exaggerated frown. “Can you prove them wrong?”

Tess shot a worried look at Edgar, who only shrugged in response. “Ye-es,” Tess replied shakily. 

Johnny leaned in close to Tess. “Didn't quite catch that.”

“Yes!”

“Okay, here's the question. It's the most important question you ever be asked, and it will probably change your life. Brace yourself.” 

“Just ask already!” she snapped.

He smiled at her, genuinely, and brought his face in close to hers until they were nose to nose. “Tess. How much is the fish?”

Tess jumped in alarm when the start of the song blasted from Edgar's keyboard. Johnny cackled at her throughout the intro and in fact through most of the song. Jimmy jumped in with him to chant or sing or whatever it was that this song required. 

“ _We're breaking the rules_  
Ignore the machine  
You won't ever stop this  
The chase is better than the catch!”

There was nothing profound about these lyrics, nothing appropriate or that even required much effort on Johnny's (and Jimmy's) part to execute. There was a lot in it for Edgar and Devi, but Edgar didn't mind. Distraction, mindless but plentiful, was exactly what he wanted.

“ _I want you back for the rhythm attack_  
Coming down on the floor like a maniac  
I want you back for the rhythm attack  
Get down in full effect!”

Johnny sent a threatening look to Edgar and the others as he ran through all the words, and Edgar wanted to be telepathic for even those few seconds. Of course he wasn't going to miss it. 

“ _I want you back for the rhythm attack_  
Coming down on the floor like a maniac  
I want you back, so clean up the dish”

Edgar and the others joined in. _  
_

_  
_ __**“By the way, how much is the fish?”**   


Johnny was absolutely beaming. He gestured to the audience and to Tess to scream again with them. 

“ _ **How much is the fish?”**_

“ _Here we go, here we go  
Here we go again!”_

Tess was clearly baffled, but she smiled for the first time during the show, which actually made her face scarier thanks to the make-up from Tenna. Jimmy continued on with vocals alongside Johnny, who was holding onto Tess' wrist and trying to make her dance. 

 

 __  
“Yeah!  
Sunshine in the air!

 

 _We're breaking the rules_  
Ignore the machine  
You won't ever stop this  
The chase is better than the catch!”

Edgar was not completely sure those were the real lyrics. By this point in the night, however, he didn't care. Johnny, Jimmy and now Tenna rambled though another run of 'I want you back's before the three of them, Edgar, Devi, Tess and the entire audience burst out again.

“ _By the way  
How much is the fish?!”_

Perhaps the audience needed something that very purposely didn't make sense after seeing Banshee vanish too. They were excited about this song, and about the chanting lyrics Jimmy and Johnny were improv-screaming at each other. They wanted the party atmosphere of repetitive 'na-na-na' as much as Edgar did. 

Out of the corner of his eye and to his pleasant surprise, Edgar saw Tess dancing and openly enjoying a tambourine. She noticed and gave an awkward grin. An echo of 'na-na-nana-na' floated in the background still, and Edgar joined in, prompting Tess to do the same. Tenna twirled along the edge of the stage, squeezing a squeak toy in time with the music. It was genuinely fun, despite everything that had just happened. Johnny still had a broken arm, Tess was still with them; the echoes of Banshee hadn't vanished along with her. 

Plus, Johnny had sworn she'd be back. 

Jimmy howled into his microphone, and then he and Tenna cried out 'Resurrection!' A few feet away, a laughing Johnny and Tess took a bow to be appreciated for their tambourine dance. Edgar smiled at Devi, who was snickering behind her drums. 

“We will see you fuckers on the road!” Johnny called to the audience. “Until then, please keep our names out of any and all barnyard sacrifices, eat your vegetables, and one day, you too can hope to have cookies with Satan!”

The audience countered with “ _And by the way! How much is the fish?!_ ” which had Johnny laughing all the way off stage and out to the van.   


It was cold, dark, and just at the end of a rain shower. The ground was slick and shiny and the air smelled of wet asphalt and damp cardboard. Edgar hesitated to start packing. “Should we... be doing this? I mean, what if she comes back to right here?”

Johnny was helping Devi hold a large box while she made room for it in the back of the van. “She knows where to find us,” he said. 

“Aren't you worried even a little?”

“No.” And with that, Johnny retreated to the van. 

Tenna stood nearby and poked Edgar's arm with her squeak-toy. “Hey.”

“What the hell are you-?”

“It's okay. She's gonna make it out. And even if she doesn't, didn't you see how excited she looked to be going? This is going to sound like some regular Hallmark shit, but I think she's in a better place.”

Edgar couldn't argue that fighting monsters in the afterlife really was a better place than the Homicides' van. Tenna clapped him on the back, squeezed the toy at him once, and strolled toward the front of the van. Edgar heard her take out her keys, and the van started a minute later. When he looked back at the venue to be sure Banshee wasn't there, Tess stood where Banshee should have been. 

“It wasn't me,” she said. “I hope you know that.”

Edgar coughed, though he'd meant to laugh. “I know. If you'd done it, Johnny would know.”

“You're worried about her, huh?”

“Of course! She was sucked into the ceiling with a slimy, clawed... thing!”

Tess grinned. “You don't trust Johnny?”

“Tess, that's not even a little bit funny.”

She brushed by him to help the others with the last of their packing. “I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.”

“Are we good?” Tenna called back. “Everyone but supernaturally abducted teenager accounted for?”

Edgar looked around him, once more at the building behind him, and to the sky. “Sure. Yeah. We're good.”

 

Later, Edgar tried to erase his own thoughts while he watched the telephone poles zip by along the highway. The wet lines between them glittered in the lights from the highway. Johnny settled in close beside him, juice box in hand.

“What do you hear?” Johnny asked.

Edgar looked back at him quizzically. “Hear?”

“In your head. Songs.”

Around him sat his friends, engaged in driving, bickering, sleeping, snacking, but there was no trace of souls sold for coal, works in progress, happiness or technicolor shoes. He'd taken so long to notice them and so long to adjust to them and now, just when they became the most beautiful, Edgar had taken them for granted and now they were gone. 

“I don't hear any of them,” Edgar sighed. 

“I used to think it was funny that you couldn't hear them when we met,” Johnny said quietly. “I didn't know that performing them would make them go away.”

“I didn't either.”

“I didn't know they were keeping us all connected to that system.” He shook his head. “No one up there ever meant to let go of me. Hell, I probably _made_ you all hear them. Kept you all roped in with me.”

“How did Banshee know?”

“She probably came knowing. ' _Your Moppet In The Ditch sings in ten languages! Batteries and knowledge of the afterlife included! Mythology and arm-breaking karate chop action sold separately!_ '”

Edgar smiled and hugged Johnny close. Johnny sniffed and made a fuss about looking grumpy while he drained his juice box. “Aren't you free of it now, though?” Edgar asked. 

“Just because they don't want anything to do with a system they set up doesn't mean the ruins of said system just disappears. I'm a supernatural Roman aqueduct. But I'll take care of that.” He threw the empty juice box at Jimmy's head, but it bounced off of the back of Jimmy's chair instead.

Edgar sighed and nodded. The rain outside intensified and he heard Devi offer to take over driving. 

“You guys!” Tenna shouted. “Hold the fucking phone, I think someone in this vehicle just offered to be a decent human being! Don't be alarmed, the situation is not critical! I repeat: Not Critical!”

Devi snapped at her, “See if I consider your feelings ever again, Tenna! Jesus.”

Tess laughed, and Jimmy leaned over and said something to her that made her laugh even more.

Suddenly, Edgar thought of Banshee's red star. “Johnny, does Tess have a song?”

“She had the Moose.” 

“Oh. And the Moose...?” He hoped he could fish the rest of this explanation out with enough repetition. 

“Is words. Thoughts, actions, feelings. All that awful shit that makes people really people. Lyrics.”

“... _Your_ lyrics. Trying to get to your song, or fill in Banshee's.”

Johnny laughed against Edgar's shoulder. “And now they're in a closet. I never thought that damn brat would tell me anything I didn't know.”

****

The colors were beautiful, and the way they moved even more so. Banshee could see everything at once, which was, she reflected, the best Heaven she could have hoped for. The colors wouldn't allow her to be harmed, if only because she could see them and it had been so long since they could be seen.

And when the administrators realized that Banshee could see the colors, they gave her up without a fight.

Disappointing, she thought, though she knew the colors would be how she'd escape, or she wouldn't have demanded to be taken. She'd wanted to throw some punches, break some limbs, or at least challenge an angel to an arm wrestling match before they admitted to her superior supernatural skill. 

There was no more connection to Johnny, nor to Tess. No more rapid growth, and no more invisibility if she didn't want it. Nothing but colors if that was all she desired. What she thought, though, was that maybe she could use music. No religions, no borders, just the world in a few notes, and Banshee pulled into every fold of it by the colors she saw and the people she could feel everywhere. 

Maybe she didn't belong with people who weren't like her Homicides family. Maybe she'd not only touched but crossed several borders that normal people didn't even know existed. Maybe she'd be lonely, and maybe she'd be strange and maybe she'd often have only her own head for company. 

But she could take the colors with her, and maybe they'd let her sing. 

“I'm coming back,” she told the colors. “Let's see what we can do.”

“ _Naina naina na na naina...”_

***

There was a squeak from somewhere in the apartment, and Devi was going to hunt it down and bludgeon it to death, regardless of whether Tenna was still attached to it. Armed with the leg that had fallen off of the table in the living room, Devi crept around the doorway to her bedroom. 

Tenna burst out of the closet squeaking her damn skeleton toy as though the toy was begging for it. “DEVI!”

Her resolve now startled out of her and crashed somewhere near the floor, Devi did not cave Tenna's skull in with a painted chunk of wood. “Christ, Tenna!” 

“Devi, I have decided-”

“That I need Chinese again?”

“That I am going to make out with you.”

Devi re-gripped her table leg.”You're going to what?”

“Fair warning!” Tenna cried, leaping forward. 

“Tenna, no!” Devi scrambled out of the way, dropping the table leg in favor of trying to claw her way out of the window. 

“Would you rather I mope about it like Edgar?!” Tenna shouted gleefully. “I can sigh and follow you around for a few years, or we can just get this over with!” She squeaked the toy again to make some sort of point.

“Stop it with the toy!” Devi yelled, digging her nails into the wallpaper. Tenna was now latched around her waist.

“Only if you stop running!” 

“Fine!” Devi stopped flailing and Tenna rose to her feet. 

“Good,” Tenna said, brushing herself off. “This will be a lot easier from this angle.” She leaned in, but Devi pushed back against her shoulders. Tenna frowned. “Devi, you said if I stopped.”

“I did. I just don't trust you.” With that, Devi snatched the toy from Tenna's hands, and chucked it out the nearest window.

Tenna kissed Devi the first time to the sound of her squeak-toy hitting the pavement.

 

****

 

“I really don't think I can sing.”

Jimmy laughed and passed her a bottle. “Tess, I can't tell you how much that doesn't even matter.”

“I don't know why I'm here now. Without this antagonistic thing with Johnny, I'm not sure what I'm doing.” She took the bottle, but was in no hurry to drink.

“You know what we all have in common?” Jimmy took a long drink. “None of us know what to do without him. I've seen it, and I've felt it, and I have the tattoos and t-shirts to prove it. We don't have a fucking clue. You just keep doing what you do, and eventually things make sense.”

“Do you think everything is done now?”

Jimmy waved his bottle at her dramatically. “Don't ask _me_ stuff like that _._ Johnny's the one who knows everything.”

Tess smiled and took a sip of the drink. “Humor me. Do you think it's done now?”

“You know something about Johnny? Nothing's ever done with him. Death doesn't even get in his way – Death steps off to one side so he can get through.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's some hero worship.”

“You _don't_ know any better. Drink up.”

 

***

 

“You still want to?” Johnny asked. 

Edgar stared at Johnny, tried to take in everything about him, and in doing so, reflected that Johnny looked as though he hadn’t aged at all since the first time they were on television. They'd returned from long, black, rainy nights, and with no pressing emergency from outside, Edgar was confronted with Johnny's ending – the thing stuck on the inside.

“I promised you,” Edgar said.

“Did you?”

“I promised myself I would promise you.”

“You don’t even know how I’ll do it. You don't even know that I have the _guts_ to do it.”

Edgar smiled. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“No. No, I’m not.”

Edgar still found him intriguing. He’d never told Johnny exactly to what degree, never expressed that he’d been looking at something he found quite beautiful when he looked at the person who slept at his side and gleefully broke his things. He’d been willing to die for this incredible person since the idea had been presented to him, even though it terrified him.

“I wish I had known just when it was coming before now,” Edgar said softly. “I’d liked to have…” He traced Johnny’s jaw and saw no need to finish his sentence.

“I’m in no hurry,” Johnny replied, eyes closed. He breathed deeply for a few moments before he let out a few more words. “Just take into account…” His voice trailed away when Edgar traced a circle around his ear. 

“It’s not important,” Edgar whispered. “This is better.”

“Are you ready?”

“I have been since this all started.”

Johnny smiled and ran his fingernails through the short hair above Edgar’s ear and over the scar on his hairline. The very familiar burning sensation that Edgar felt at that moment nearly drowned out what Johnny said next. 

“What if I told you we were just going to sleep?”

“Drugged, and not dead? Is that...?”

“What if I said I didn't know? What if I said I'm taking a chance?”

“I can't believe you don't have a plan for every outcome.”

“So you trust me?”

“Yes. Always yes.”

Edgar's eyes closed as Johnny's fingertips began tracing patterns on the back of his neck. He felt breath that he realized would soon be slowing to a stop on his neck, on his jaw, across his lips. Would he die taken by surprise? Would Johnny stab him at the last second? Bite him, having been a vampire all this time? 

A kiss, and a passionate and forceful one at that. Something slipped by his lips, and he pulled away, startled. Johnny would not let him go far, and pulled him back. Part of a pill fit under his tongue and Johnny spoke against his lips. “Keep it there.”

“Will we go somewhere together? If we're going to... I mean...”

“Of course. I just can’t guarantee where.”

“And... your closet monster?”

“This is the way to do it.”

“I think… I think I’m a little scared,” Edgar confessed. He thought he already felt heavy.

“Don’t be. You trust me.”

They settled close together on the bed, surrounded by posters, a possessed closet, a ring of keys, some tacky paperweights, a book that once recorded everything they did and equal possibilities of waking up or never seeing any of it again. 

Though he felt a bit foolish, there was no reason to risk holding it in, and Edgar asked, “Can you… sing something?” 

Johnny laughed, but without insult or joke, pulled his face close to Edgar’s ear.

“ _take me as I am, ‘cause you know I’ll never change  
I was born to stare, at who stares back at me.”_

“ _If I make it up to that big show in the sky  
all I really want…”_

Edgar smiled, settling into a pillow and an amazing feeling of calm. Johnny was not singing so much anymore as just breathing.

“… _is my TV and you.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creature Feature – Greatest Show Unearthed  
> Karolina – Mojot Svet  
> Scooter – How Much is the Fish?  
> VAST – My TV and You
> 
>  
> 
> There are thank yous and extras after this chapter on my website.

**Author's Note:**

> The Editors - The Racing Rats


End file.
